


detonate me, renovate me

by darkmochecoffee



Series: stem to the rose [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drama & Romance, F/M, No Angst, im trying to be lighthearted?, junmyeon is a math genius, medical student yifan, there is angst, well for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmochecoffee/pseuds/darkmochecoffee
Summary: she is a walking distaster and he, well he is unlucky.or a mathematical genius meets medical prodigy and they learn that life is much more complicated than differential equations and open heart surgeries.





	1. navier stokes

She dances weirdly.

Blonde hair strewn over her back in a hypnotizing cascade, red lips, closed eyes. Beautiful, but awkward foot work. Yifan isn’t a dancer himself so he refuses to attempt it, maybe if he’s sloshed enough, he would.

The student brings the glass of piss warm beer back to his lips. The liquid tastes horrible, Yifan surmises as he tosses back the rest of it. His eyes never leave the girl. She’s dancing with someone now, grinding languidly. The DJ scratches more irritating music; the beat hurts Yifan’s ears.

Back at the girl. Yifan notices that the guy she is dancing with, is getting a little touchy. His hands are on her waist, a few inches down and he would have been cupping her generous behind – not that Yifan’s been staring – and she’s trying to anchor herself on his bicep.

Really wonky footwork.

Yifan gazes away when the guy leans down to kiss her. He knocks his can of beer towards Minseok temple, who’s already slumped over the bar counter. Jongdae is beside him, laughing; patting Minseok’s back as he does. He’s slurring about measurements and  _“fucking professor K-kim gonna, shove my plates on him c-come Monday, he’ll see”_

Ah, engineering majors and their terrible professors.

“Hey.” He shouts, “You guys done, I still have a fuckton of readings to do.”

Jongdae doesn’t seem to hear him. He sighs, he’s too much of a good heart to abandon his drunkard friends; but sometimes they abuse his goodness. He stands up and hauls Minseok’s form from the counter and nods at the bartender. He kicks Jongdae’s stool, “Let’s get you home before you start puking your guts out.”

Jongdae’s snickering, wobbling on his feet as he follows Yifan out of the club.

Yifan’s shoving Jongdae and Minseok to the backseat of his SUV when he hears a shrill, very female scream. He pops his head out to locate the source of the noise and sees none other than wonky footed, blonde girl from the club earlier. She’s trying to beat up the guy from earlier too; every loud whack indented with screams of protest.

 _“_ Ah, fuck.” Yifan’s sauntering towards them, hands shoved in his pockets. He’s trying to go over the notions of what he’s about to do. Sometimes he hates himself for being too concerned for people who keeps making shitty decisions.

“Hey.” Yifan’s towering over the other guy and he’s completely dwarfing wonky footed blonde girl. “Any problem here?”

The guy’s hand is around wonky footed girl’s wrist. She’s trying to tug at it, vehemently cursing. “The fuck man, I didn’t say I was gonna have sex with you.” She shouts, “Fucking let me go.”

“You heard her.” Yifan’s eyes turn into slits. “Be a decent human being and let go of her.”

The guy scoffs, he’s red all over the face. Sloshed. “And why’d I do that?”

“Because if you don’t I’m going to a, call the police on you and b, punch you.”

The guy only laughs at him (the audacity) and continues to tug wonky footed, blonde girl towards him. Yifan hates physical violence but if it came to it, he’s never not ready to throw a mean punch. His fist connects with the guy’s mouth. He inwardly cringes as knuckles meet teeth, it kind of hurts but the other man’s lip is bleeding from one punch and he’s cursing at Yifan. “That’s option b. Do you still want option a?”

The other scoffs, backing away. “Fine, take her. She’s a slut anyway.”

Wonky footed girl is slumped over the light pole, bracing herself against it.

“You okay?” Yifan approaches very slowly since the girl brings up a palm and raises it near his face. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick.” That’s all she says, three seconds before slumping over and vomiting her insides on Yifan’s shoes. Yifan sighs sharply as he pulls his palm over his face. After the good deed, the universe has promptly graced him with this walking disaster. “A _h fuck, the universe hates me.”_

He tries to compose himself as wonky footed girl hurls, her retching sounds horrifying. When it finally stops, Yifan walks over cringing at his dirtied shoes. “Are you okay?”

He sees wonky footed girl’s face clearly this time, she’s pale and pink in select places. Very beautiful, even with her mascara smudged and her hair in a disarray. To be perfectly honest, very, very beautiful.

Yifan’s about to repeat the question when wonky footed girl closes her eyes, and passes out on Yifan.

The universe really hates his guts.

~*~

Wu Yifan is on his fourth year as a medicine student in South Korea’s local Seoul National University. He speaks four languages, has a scary almost perfect photographic memory, his GPA is soaring higher than airplanes and lastly, Yifan doesn’t like being awakened so goddamned _rudely_ on a Sunday morning.

He rises from the bed, right arm shooting out to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. He slides the device up his nose bridge and glares at the door.

_“Where the fuck am I?”_

It’s wonky footed, blonde girl aka the disaster from last night. Yifan sighs as he trudges out of the safe and comforting confines of his room and throws the door open.

The woman from last night is bereft of her denim jacket and now, she wobbles on his apartment’s sitting room with the skimpiest clothes Yifan has seen on a living body.  Her whole back is completely bare, as her dress cuts down and ends a few inches down her hips. When she turns around, her neckline plunges and Yifan is gifted with a magnificent view of semi female nudity that is probably inappropriate in this time of the day.

“Oh god.” The woman gasps, “Whatever I did last night, I was drunk – very fucking drunk – I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Yifan reels, the woman’s voice is absolutely, _divine_. Her dulcet tone sounded beautiful even when speaking profanity. The medical student averts his gaze and sighs.

“Don’t worry about it.” Yifan says, removing his sweater as he walks towards her. “Here." He offers her his sweater and she slips it over her petite frame.

"Do you want coffee? I’m Wu Yifan by the way.”

“Kim Junmyeon.” She answers, “If it’s not much of a bother, yes please. Uhm, can I know what the actual fuck happened last night? I’m lost.”

Yifan switches on the coffee maker and dumps himself on one of the barstools scattered in what he calls the kitchen. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Junmyeon groans. “From cool to what the actual fuck, just how dire was last night?”

“Probably near what the fuck. The man you were with last night had less than pure intentions.” The coffee maker finishes. Yifan takes out two of Jongdae’s various character mugs from the overhead cupboard and promptly fills both with fresh coffee. He hands the Pikachu mug to her but she’s eyeing his own cup. “Do you want mine?”

“Yes please. I prefer Bulbasaur.”

Junmyeon’s eye disappears into tiny little crescents when she smiles and it’s rather adorable, Yifan notes passively. He shrugs and exchanges the mugs, much to Junmyeon’s apparent satisfaction.

“Thank you though, for rescuing my ass. Damn, I bet the guy was a total asshole.”

“Variable.” Yifan says and downs a good portion of his daily caffeine intake. “What’s your major?”

“Finance.” She says. “Yours?”

“Medicine.”

“Damn, you must be a fucking genius or something.”

Yifan doesn’t negate nor agree with the statement. He simply stares at this oddly amicable woman comfortably lounging on Minseok’s usual spot and drinking coffee from Jongdae’s beloved Pokemon mug. The whole situation is…bizarre.

“Hey, if you don’t mind, can I use the bathroom?”

Yifan shrugs, “Sure. It’s upstairs, at the end of the hall.”

Junmyeon shoots him another grin before standing up and heading for the stairs. Yifan watches the hypnotizing cascade of her blonde hair as her loose bun undoes.

 “Weird.”

 

~*~

“What’s happening here?”

People are applauding at the entrance of the engineering department’s main hall.

“The genius must have solved the month’s problem again. It always happens around this time.”

Yifan shoots a perfectly formed eyebrow, “I wasn’t aware we have a Will Hunting in this place. Is he any good?”

Jongdae ceases walking and balks. They are facing one of the whiteboards flanking both sides of the building’s entrance and the engineering major beside Yifan utters a “goddamn” in a most revering tone. Both whiteboards are filled with equations and numbers that Yifan’s self-proclaimed genius would never understand in a lifetime.

“At this rate, whoever’s doing this is gonna solve a Millennium problem. Trust me. I can’t even grasp this shit and I’m an engineering major!” Jongdae is fervently pointing towards the numbers and figures on the board and almost hitting Yifan with his T-square. “This is some doctorate level differential equation problem. It’s probably even hypothetical, the professors are shitty like that.”

 Yifan surveys the neatly written string of numbers on the board and smirks. “Is there even a hypothetical in mathematics? I thought the essence of the whole thing is to have a single answer for every known problem.”

Jongdae shrugs and removes his gaze from the board. “The professors in this place know enough to make something hypothetical. But whoever’s doing this is really something else. As far as I’m concerned, no one in my department is _this_ talented. This is a gift man.”

Yifan surveys the equations again and nods. The numbers truly make his head spin so it’s probably safe to agree with Jongdae’s deduction. Whoever answers such nauseating problems could really be gifted and bored beyond their wits.

Jongdae enters the building, waving his T-square at Yifan. “Thanks for dropping me off, Fan. I want spaghetti for dinner.”

“What a brat.” Yifan says to himself before he turns and heads for the liberal arts building.

The liberal arts building is probably the smallest building inside the SNU campus. Its façade remains unchanged, still harboring the remnants of the past half century’s architectural designs. The interior, however is modernized, with clean cut edges and appropriate lighting.

Yifan actually has no business inside the liberal arts building. He’s a medical clerk at SNUH and the hospital is off campus, but on odd days where his shift ends during the morning, he finds himself meandering to that small music hall inside the said building. Music majors have long transferred to the new building, located west of the campus and the old music hall has been abandoned since.

The music hall brings a comfort of some sorts. Everything’s in black, brown and red. The lighting gives the place a rustic vibe.

But Yifan visits this particular music hall for the otherwise unused Steinway that is gathering dust inside. The piano is beautiful and it sung magically when caressed in the right ways. Yifan always marvels before he even tries to put his fingers upon it.

When he plays, he fingers are careful as they dance upon ivory and ebony keys. Yifan’s not sure which piece this is, he just plays. The feeling is liberating, kind of.  He forgets when he plays, forgets the stench of the hospital, the eerie voices and pained cries, he just forgets even for a while. Yifan wonders if his playing sounds surgically precise like the rest of how he conducts his life.

There’s a change of note, Yifan hits the wrong key so he decides to shift the song altogether. This time, he recognizes the familiar beginning of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. The piece always starts mellow and crescendos into a surprisingly elaborate end. This piece is Yifan’s favorite, it’s definitely the metal of classic music.

“You play like a madman.”

Yifan hits the wrong note and this time, he is completely derailed from the piece. The error produces the most discordant noise Yifan has heard himself play and it makes him cringe.

There’s a woman standing across the hall, just a few paces from the piano and him. It’s Junmyeon, the same blonde girl he saved from an impending case of date rape. She’s clad in black from head to toe, and the rips in her skinny joins go high up her thigh. Yifan decides black looks good on her, makes her pale skin and blonde hair pop.

“Do I?” Yifan stares at her, raising a brow. “I hope you didn’t get yourself into trouble these past few days, Junmyeon-ssi.”

Junmyeon shrugs and approaches him with languid steps. The heels of her leather boots produce an oscillating sound inside the hall.

“But I guess Rite of Spring needs that kind of pounding to make it sound good.” She says, leaning against the piano and running her pale fingers topped with bloody red nails, on the keys. “I’m a Debussy kind of person. Stravinsky’s too much for me. And yes, I didn’t get myself into trouble. Really though, I don’t want to have that kind of hangover ever again, a whole night of getting trashed doesn’t justify it.”

 “Stravinsky’s good, he’s my favorite.” Yifan says, standing up. “Anyway, I should go. Take care of yourself.”

“Why are you leaving?” Junmyeon is looking at him with the softest hazel eyes. She’s really beautiful, even if her eyeliner makes her look scary. “I’m sorry for disturbing you can continue.”

“Maybe next time.” Yifan tells her, his lips set into a grin.

Junmyeon smiles, “Too bad. I really like your playing.”

Yifan is already brisk walking towards the entrance. “Thanks.” He says before leaving the hall. The woman is such an enigma. He previously thought their paths weren’t going to cross but barely four days since the incident and he’s seeing her again. Yifan smiles to himself, _who are you?_

 

~*~

Yifan sees her again, about two weeks later.

The medical student is walking out of his late-night elective classes when he spots something odd in front of the engineering hall. Yifan wonders if he’s hallucinating due to stress or there is someone concentrating a flashlight at something in front of the building.

Curiosity killed the cat, so Yifan backtracks and heads for the building to see what the fuss is all about.

Yifan hadn’t been expecting to see Junmyeon but there she is, standing on a stool in her pajamas and answering the same problem Jongdae had been eyeing a day before.

The man stands a foot behind her and quietly watches with fascination. Junmyeon doesn’t notice him, as she’s too busy writing numbers and figures on the whiteboard all the while looking completely relaxed. Another minute passes before she recaps the marker and leans back to survey her work.

“Basic.” Yifan hears her say and he chuckles. The sound completely startles Junmyeon so when she turns around to face him, she loses footing and the stool collapses with her weight. Junmyeon lets out a short scream before she topples over Yifan.

“What the fuck?” Junmyeon gasps. She’s completely over Yifan’s body, who’s currently groaning in pain. “Well, this is awkward.”

“That hurts.” Yifan idly says, staring at Junmyeon’s face, which for the record, is completely devoid of makeup. She looks soft, like an angel.

“I’m sorry.” She stands up and stretches and arm for Yifan to take. “So now, I’m completely busted.”

“You’re the one who’s been answering these problems?”

Junmyeon shrugs, “Yeah. It’s a small game I play with the math department.”

“You’re the genius huh?”

Junmyeon laughs. “Far from it. These problems are challenging but they’re far from being impossible, you just have to outwit the old timers. I must say the problems are getting more and more tricky these past few months. I think they want me to solve a Millennium Problem at this rate, but nobody got time for that.”

“Surprising.” Yifan muses. “Really surprising.”

Junmyeon quirks a brow at him. “But I don’t want anyone to know. We shall keep this our little secret.”

“Should I?”

Junmyeon rolls her eyes at him. “Of course, you should. I happen to like the anonymity. Also, I know you’re the mystery pianist at the old music hall. I bet you like your alone time, wouldn’t be fun if people starts pouring in, right?”

Yifan chuckles. “I guess we have a deal then.”

“Good.”

 

 

 


	2. double bypass

 Kim Junmyeon is the perfect example of a prodigal daughter, useless, reckless. Her whole life is, crudely put, a hot mess and it’s like she’s holding everything together with the thinnest thread.  

She has a rebellious streak, one that is dangerous enough to send warning signals blaring miles on end, she’s a juvenile who’s old enough not to act like one but fails to do so. So, here she is, with an average IQ of a hundred and ninety – which technically puts her at Albert Einstein’s level of intelligence – and feeling so incredibly useless. Junmyeon is fluent in Korean, Cantonese, Mandarin, English, Spanish, French, Italian, Dutch, Russian, German, Japanese, hell name it, she probably speaks it.

Mathematics, what used to be her favorite, is child’s play and she could probably solve a Millennium Problem by now if it weren’t for her crippling laziness.

 She’s diagnosed with clinical anxiety and deep inside, she knows she is more than sad. Junmyeon didn’t need a therapist to rub it in her face just how fucked up her whole life is. Generally, she has long accepted that she’s never going to be anything more despite her inherent brilliance. Her parents had clipped her wings long before she even learned to fly.

Maybe that’s why she continues to indulge in the Math department’s little game of answer the problem, since it gave her purpose. Honestly the problems were all laughably easy to her and she wishes she isn’t so fucking intelligent because she swears to the deities, more than half of the time she feels like going out of her mind.

See, Junmyeon had mastered differential equations at twelve, and by the time she was fifteen years old, she could have probably coached students better than seasoned professors.

But the thing is, Junmyeon never loved math from the get go. She was eight when a cousin left a college level calculus textbook in her home and Junmyeon remembered being so fascinated about the damn figures on the books, not the numbers, but the figures. She wanted to know what those meant and it never bothered her that she was reading and thoroughly understanding a subject that even twenty-something-year olds cannot.

The figures, those damned figures.

Her parents discovered of course. They had a genius in the family and consequently that equaled into cutting off Junmyeon’s childhood because apparently, fun is an obsolete concept for geniuses, regardless of the fact that said genius is merely nine years old.

By the time she was ten, Junmyeon was shipped to the UK to attend a school for ‘gifted children’, or for kids whose entitled families pay enough to have a so-called ‘genius’ for the sake of societal arrogance. It’s a good thing to brag about abnormal intelligence when it’s natural. It’s a sham.

Those years had been completely and utterly miserable.

 Junmyeon had been forcibly fed, doctorate level physics, chemistry and mathematics. Throw in some prized mysteries in there and it was good to go. Junmyeon breezed through everything. It was all so easy.

But her mind slowly started to devour her being from the inside. She had no identity, she was just Kim Junmyeon, heiress to the powerful Kim Mixed Industries with an IQ that could be pitted against history’s most brilliant people.

She was Kim Junmyeon, and she had no fucking idea what she would do with her brain, she had no idea what she wants to be, she didn’t even know herself.

At sixteen, after completing advanced cram school for abnormally intelligent people, she was sent to MIT. Junmyeon studied more mathematics and a crapload about energy and engineering, worked with a bunch of people to light up a portion of Zimbabwe and consequently went half-insane.

Ironically, she knew too much about everything and anyone else and knew nothing about herself. She had and she still has no passion, no drive, no ambition, no goals, no everything. It’s difficult to be born with a metaphorical gold spoon metaphorically shoved in one’s mouth. With too much money and a full-blown business empire under the palm of her hand, Junmyeon will live a lavish life for the next two hundred lifetimes.

And that’s just grand…and terrible.

Pardon her, people are starving and she exists to complain about her out-of-this-world intelligence and her money but then again, everyone has their own set of demons and Junmyeon, regardless of her wealth, is also fighting her own.

By nineteen, she flies back to her native South Korea, much to her parents chagrined horror, and easily breezed into Seoul National University.

She studies finance (out of boredom, and after bargaining with her parents) but attends more lectures in the liberal arts department. She’s probably woefully disrespected and shamed half of the academic staff in less than a year. They all end up running with their tail between their legs at the slightest provocation and it used to be amusing, now it’s quite irritating.

Then here comes the math department’s monthly challenges.

She answered one in a whim, it was abstract algebra, one of the many hodgepodges she first learned at her previous boarding school in the UK. Basic, easy as breathing. 

The next morning, she’s officially SNU’s Will Hunting. And she laughed because it was all so amusing. Engineering majors talked about her like she’s the next best thing after sliced bread. Hilarious.

She liked the anonymity though, and for the next three years she will answer more and more complex problems without anyone knowing, that until she meets handsome-as-fuck hero for the third time.

 

Junmyeon stares at the whiteboard, it’s a partial differential equation this time.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Junmyeon says, as she stands on an unused stool. The answer to the problem comes easy, figures, numbers and symbols are written in black against white. She doesn’t even have to think too much.

“Basic.” Junmyeon mutters as she recaps the marker. Someone chuckles from behind her. The sound surprises her half out her wits and when she turns around, she loses footing and the stool collapses. Junmyeon shouts and the man she falls over groans in pain.

Wu Yifan. The name comes to her at the sight of the him. Wu Yifan looked rather handsome in his turquoise scrub suit.

“That hurts.” Yifan tells her. Junmyeon scrambles to help him up.

 She regrets wearing her pajamas out, but it has cute panda patterns all over and Junmyeon cannot resist pandas.

“I’m sorry.” She chuckles while Yifan rids his scrub suit of nonexistent dust. “So now, I’m completely busted huh?”

The man shrugs. He’s staring at the whiteboard, expression as awed as everyone else. Junmyeon wonders if people really find mathematics deplorable that even someone like Yifan is fascinated by it.

“So, you’re the one who’s been answering these problems?”

“Yeah, it’s a small game I play with the math department.”

Yifan chuckles at her. “You’re the genius, huh?”

“Far from it.” Junmyeon is not, in anyway, humble bragging. She’s not a genius, if she is, then she would have made the universe a better place. But the world is still fucked up and no ounce of Junmyeon’s so-called genius would help alleviate even the littlest of its problems.

She’s not a genius.

“Surprising.” Yifan later says.

Junmyeon rolls her eyes. “I happen to like the anonymity. Also, I know you’re the mystery pianist at the old music hall. I bet you like your alone time, wouldn’t be fun if people starts pouring in, right?”

Yifan merely smiles. “I guess we have a deal then.”

 

~*~

Behavioral finance kills Junmyeon on a weekly basis.

It has got to be the most mind numbing subject Junmyeon has been forced to listen to – the complete torture of a nine am lecture is an unnecessary cruelty – she also cannot quite remember just how many times she’s cut it for the current semester alone. Junmyeon thinks she’s either going to die out of boredom or she’ll end up falling on a blunt pencil and stab herself to death.

Sometimes she wonders why she even returned to school in the first place. She’s back in her homeland, fermenting like a goddamned kimchi and her beloved younger brother is having the time of his life in Harvard studying with his definitely-not-just-best-friend, Jung Soojung.

MIT was bad. She convinces herself. Engineering had been boring and she’s loads better at numbers and consequently, money, anyway.

_Really Junmyeon, really?_

Frankly, she would have loved to attend something less mind numbing than behavioral finance soon. Hell, she’ll retake Socratic Philosophy if given the chance.

“Miss Kim.”

Junmyeon sighs.

_Here we go again._

Junmyeon stares at the old man pacing the front of the lecture hall and sighs. “Yes, professor Cho?”

The old man is red in the face, as usual. Junmyeon’s disinterest always seemed to spike his blood pressure into unthinkable heights.

“If you’re not going to listen, then you might as well get out of my classroom.”

Junmyeon shrugs, “I can do that, but then you’ll deliberately flunk me and if I flunk, we’re going to see each other again next semester. Do you really want that to happen, professor? Are you that fond of me?”

“Get out!” The man bellows as he allows a whiteboard marker to sail towards Junmyeon’s general direction. “Get out of my classroom.”

 Junmyeon gathers her things, smiling when she strides out the lecture hall. She idly hopes Cho won’t go into cardiac arrest or something or she’s never going to hear the end of it.

_What the actual fuck am I doing with my life?_

Thirty minutes after the whole debacle, Junmyeon is leaning against her Ducati and idly twisting an irregular Rubik’s cube with her fingers. At least the puzzles are a lesser snooze fest than finance lectures.

She’s chewing a bunch of pineapple flavored fruit rolls – pineapples are her favorite – when she sees a familiar medical student saunter out of SNU’s main allied health building. Yifan is wearing a white coat under plainclothes. The white coat sits nicely on his broad shoulders; makes him look like the dignified public servant that he will be soon.

As Junmyeon watches him remove his coat, she kind of regrets the fact that she had been so wasted the first time she’d met him. Because damn, Yifan looked like he would have been an amazing one night stand.

The man finally exits the campus’ premises and Junmyeon decides to – since she doesn’t have anything better to do anyway – follow him. She puts on her helmet, mounts her Ducati and surreptitiously trails Yifan’s silver, Kia sedan. She passively thinks that her behavior is borderline stalker but she honestly doesn’t give a shit.

Junmyeon follows the man into the business district and she starts feeling wary as the looming building of her family’s headquarters starts to be seen in all its fifty-five floors monstrosity. Sometimes, Junmyeon thinks the Kim Industries’ main Korean branch is too much of an extravagance. But then again, the conglomerate employs around thirteen thousand people in this country alone, maybe all that space is justified.

 Yifan is going on a date, Junmyeon deduces when he sees the man exit his vehicle only to return minutes later with a large bouquet of yellow tulips. But Yifan doesn’t park in front of any place that’s suitable for a date but instead he disembarks in front of a clearly ancient but well-maintained building.

By the looks of it, the place is a hospice and it’s an absolute oddity in the midst of sprawling chrome monoliths and extravagant restaurants in the business district. Junmyeon stands by her motorbike and muses for all three seconds if she’s going to follow Yifan inside or not. In the end, she shrugs and chooses the latter.

A few pairs of eyes are immediately on her the moment she steps into the brightly painted establishment. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her all black clothing, and platinum hair.

Junmyeon approaches the receptionist who gives her a discreet once over before giving her a small, subdued smile. “How may I help you today, ma’am?”

There’s a poster behind the receptionist that asks for volunteers so Junmyeon inwardly shrugs, tries to smile and says. “I’m here for the volunteering thing you have going on?”

The receptionist looks like she’s trying very hard not to cringe. Junmyeon’s dressed so very inappropriately, not exactly trying to match the mood of the entire hospice and she’s definitely not looking forward on meeting anyone who’s near death either.

But she’s very curious as to what Yifan could be doing in such a place.

The receptionist chuckles nervously. “Oh okay, follow me please.”

Junmyeon is led in a sort of wide playroom divided in the middle with a frosted glass wall. A bunch of storybooks are dumped on her by the receptionist with quick instructions to read something to the kids. Junmyeon nods dumbly.

She’s about to go stalk Yifan when sick looking children begin pouring inside the room. They’re all wheel-chair bound, some look fine and some do not. Junmyeon begins to feel sick.

A nurse wearing soft purple scrub suit pads into the playroom with a bright smile on his face.

“Hi, so you’re the volunteer today?”

Junmyeon nods, “Uh yeah, but I’m actually not sure if I can do this.”

The nurse smiles. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here to help. My name’s Yixing, you are?”

“Junmyeon.”

Yixing turns to the expectant children and says quite cheerfully. “Okay everyone, this is Junmyeon and she will be reading us a story today.”

Junmyeon is still very much horrified with what she’s seeing but she forces another smile to alleviate some of the dread that’s twisting her gut. She picks a random book and tries to be very engaging when she reads.

She reads the children a lighthearted story, something about the sun and flowers being friends. They seem happy, smiling at her despite their apparent suffering. Junmyeon wonders if these kids are aware that they’re dying soon.

She feels incredibly vulnerable, helpless and useless.

When the children are escorted back into their rooms, Junmyeon wipes the smile off her face. She manages to steady herself before she falls towards the floor. Her head aches so much.

“Hey,” Yixing takes the book from her grasp and steadies her. Junmyeon’s chokes on her tears.

“What the actual fuck.” Junmyeon hisses, forcefully wiping the trail of salty liquid leaking from her eyes. “I didn’t sign up for that. What the hell?!”

“Junmyeon-ssi, are you alright?”

Junmyeon glares at the poor nurse and she feels bad for venting about the consequences of her curiosity to someone who really does not need more emotional exhaustion.

“No shit.” Junmyeon says, exhaling. “I feel terrible. I just wanted to know what Wu Yifan is doing in this kind of place and now I feel so terrible.”

Yixing gently smiles at her, something about the nurse’s smile is calming, almost healing. It placates her.

“It’s okay Junmyeon-ssi. It happens to some of our volunteers. Do you want coffee, tea, anything?”

Junmyeon shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m so emotionally fucked. I’m really sorry about that Yixing.”

Yixing nods, “You mentioned Doc Wu? He’s still a student as far as I’m concerned, but he’s been one of our volunteer palliative doctors for three years now. He’s a good man, you wanted to see him?”

“No, I just…” Junmyeon massages her temples, this is beginning to become such a bad decision. “Yes, I’d like to see him. But can you not tell him that someone’s here looking for him. I kinda stalked him you see, please don’t be weirded out. I know him from school.”

Yixing is thoroughly confused but like the actual angel that he is, he doesn’t ask more questions.

“Doc Wu usually does his rounds on Thursdays. He doesn’t really do much, but he has a knack with patients. Some of them really like seeing him around. They tell me Doc Wu makes them feel better.”

“Interesting.” Junmyeon says.

 

“Here we are.” Yixing announces when they reach another portioned space. “Our patients here are a bit older than the other wing. Doc Wu is stationed here today, you’re probably going to see him soon.”

“Thanks, Yixing-ssi.”

Yixing shoots her one more smile before leaving the hall. Junmyeon wants to peek inside the portioned area but the frosted glass reaches the ceiling.

Just as she’s approaching the nearest bench to take a seat, Yifan rounds the corner, brisk walking towards the portioned area. He’s wearing his turquoise scrub suit this time. The bags under his eyes do not make him any less handsome than the first time Junmyeon had seen him.

Wu Yifan is such a gorgeous doctor, as far as Junmyeon is concerned.

When Yifan is near her, Junmyeon gets a magazine from the coffee table and hides her face behind it. She feels silly and mentally berates herself for it.

Yifan finally enters the portioned-off wing. Junmyeon quits being a fool and puts the magazine down. She quietly laughs for her stupidity and for what she just did. _Hiding your face behind a magazine? Really Junmyeon, really?_

She notices that the sliding door to the area is slightly opened. Junmyeon’s level of creepiness, rises, when she allows herself to peek. There isn’t anything surprising behind the frosted glass wall except more people who’ve acknowledged their relative end, and Yifan who’s approaching everyone from one bed to the next. Junmyeon hears him ask routine health related questions and there’s nothing really surprising with that.

Yifan’s whole face changes when he allows a grin to grace his otherwise steely expression. He looks more approachable somehow. It’s enthralling to watch him listen to his patients and ask about their lives, like their families or how their business is doing. He deals with people like they aren’t dancing towards the end of their lives.

That’s noble of him. For one, Junmyeon is sure that Yifan is completely aware that any minute now, one of his patients could abruptly pass away. It’s heroic to be there for them, to be close to these people despite an awareness that they could easily slip away from his life like they hadn’t been there at all.

Junmyeon doesn’t like being subjected to such emotionally exhausting situations. It takes a special kind of courage to face people who’ve accepted their deaths and act like everything is completely fine, for their sake. Junmyeon respects Wu Yifan for that.

She’s convinced that he’s a rather amazing person.

When Junmyeon leaves the hospice, she asks Yixing about things she could bring for everyone the next time she visits. Junmyeon also tells herself to wear something that didn’t involve rips on her skinny jeans and a leather jacket.

 

Wu Yifan fascinates her, that’s for sure and Junmyeon tends to gravitate towards everything that fascinates her.


	3. algorithm

If the person following him wanted it to be surreptitious as possible, then they are screwing up.

The black Ducati isn’t even the biggest giveaway at this rate, Yifan muses, it’s the fact that the girl behind the Ducati’s handle is illegally speeding into the business district with her blonde hair blowing into a disarray from how fast she’s driving.

Yifan arrives at two conclusions. One, Junmyeon is trying to get to somewhere as fast as she can and they just happen to drive on the same road; two, Junmyeon’s stalking him.

Maybe it’s the latter, Yifan muses over his bouquet of yellow tulips. She’s staring at him from across the road and Yifan tries to ignore how weird the situation is. When he ducks down to place the flowers on the passenger seat, he furtively darts a gaze towards Junmyeon who hasn’t moved from where she is.

Yifan enters his vehicle and wonders if the math genius had ceased on following him.

She doesn’t. Yifan couldn’t quite fight the sudden laugh that escaped his lips as Junmyeon zoomed right behind his bumper. When he parks in front of the hospice he usually frequents, he pretends to ignore her obvious existence and waltzes right into the entrance without giving it much thought.

Yifan hands Mrs. Lim the tulips when he sees her standing by the window, staring calmly at something Yifan still not sees, even after all these years. There’s something about this seemingly frail old woman that screamed strength. She’s diagnosed with mid-stage dementia, consequently causing her to steadily forget everything and everyone that held some sort of significance in her life.

Except for flowers, this woman, remembers flowers. She likes them, likes inhaling their scent. She tells Yifan random things about flowers sometimes, like how tulips mean something along the lines of cheerful love. Yifan isn’t wholly sure what that means, but he bought them anyway.

“Everything going well today, Min-ah?”

The old woman smiles at the flowers but when she gazes at Yifan, she looks lost as usual. Yifan tries his best to keep a straight face as he stares out the window and tries to figure out what Mrs. Lim had been eyeing all these years. There isn’t anything across the window. After all, the hospice is the smallest building in the business district and it’s flanked by monolithic towers from all sides. People in this place don’t mind anything but their phones, and the occasional traffic.

“They’re in a rush.” The woman says, softly stroking the blooms. “Always in a rush. Walk so fast. In a rush.” 

Her words are coming out choppier these days, thoughts strewn into fragmented sentences. Yifan wishes to understand her, because sometimes, the woman’s words meant more than they conveyed.

Yifan hums, “I guess so, Min-ah. Young people are always rushing.”

The patient smiles at him. “I like Tulips, they mean love. Carnations too, they mean undying love.”

Yifan files that small fact into his mental cabinet of flower language and nods. “Maybe I’ll get you carnations. I’ll ask if they’re in season.”

She smiles, that little lost smile, like a child in an eighty-five-year old’s body. Yifan knows he’s lost her again so he turns around and lets her be peaceful in her world full of flowers and their language. There’s an ache in Yifan’s chest, something that he’s learned to hide. He wishes he knows how to quit feeling it too.

He is about to enter the lounge meant for volunteers when he sees a glimpse of Junmyeon reading inside the children’s play ward. She’s an oddity. Her blonde hair, black clothing and red lips are a general mismatch in a room full of pastels and color.

Yifan is amused, per se. She’s obviously followed him here without knowing what the place would be but Yifan admires her grit. Volunteers usually feel light headed inside such places, they think it will be a general glum, with death looming like a permanent shadow.

Well, for one, that is a perfectly correct assessment. Hospices are for people who are ready to accept their end, but more than that, it’s a place to receive care when it is needed the most.

Yifan thinks Junmyeon is rather pretty when she smiles. Her red lips are quite intimidating but when those lips curl, and her eyes turn into crescents, intimidation becomes something fond. It’s quite noble to subject herself to such things without mental preparation, really noble.

What an odd woman. Yifan muses, chuckling as he exits.

He’s wondering if Junmyeon has left the hospice when he goes to his assigned wing. Turns out, Junmyeon hasn’t. She’s prancing back and forth in front of the geriatric wing. Yifan watches her for a while. She looks stressed, and her previously tied hair has come undone. The blonde tresses are really distracting, the way it cascades down her back is hypnotic, too alluring for her own good.

Yifan squeezes his eyes when Junmyeon gathers her hair up, baring a good portion of her pale neck. The man slightly chokes.

Well, that does it. Her neck turns him on. What a discovery.

Junmyeon rapidly turns around and Yifan saunters towards the hallway, pretending that he didn’t notice her grab a magazine and hide her face behind it. For such an intelligent human being, Junmyeon can be silly too.

Yifan hides a small smirk when he enters the geriatric wing. He sees Junmyeon’s silhouette, as she tries to peer through the small gap he left through the door. Just enough to sate her curiosity.

What an odd woman.

~*~

She’s wearing a dress the next time Yifan sees her inside the hospice, a really nice green dress that made her look like those blushing ladies in the morning dramas the patients sometimes like to watch.

Junmyeon is still probably oblivious to his existence. Yifan deduced that she would never step in the hospice again after being subjected to unnecessary emotional trauma.

But here she is, proving him wrong. 

Seriously, what an odd woman, odd in charming sort of way.

“There’s this new volunteer, also from SNU. You know her?”

Yifan nods and languidly stretches over the length of the leather couch in the volunteer’s lounge. Yixing is standing by the coffee maker, idly stirring sugar into his cup.

“An acquaintance. I believe she’s a finance major.”

“She must be loaded.” Yixing comments after taking small sip from his chipped cup. Yifan stares at the nurse. “What do you mean?”

“A donation. It was big man, twenty million won.”

Yifan shrugs. “Guess so. She’s some sort of a genius.”

“Damn. Must be great to have so much money, brains and the looks to boot. She sounds pretty perfect.”

The cup of coffee Yixing handed him tastes quite bland and Yifan suddenly thought they could buy better coffee beans with Junmyeon’s sudden generous donation. The thought amuses him.

“She’s been here a lot, then? What do you think prompted the donation? No one gives these days.”

Yixing looks thoughtful. “It could be for the kids we put on the cancer play ward. She had half an emotional breakdown the first time she’d been there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And she was here looking for you. Don’t tell her I told you.”

“I know.” Yifan chuckles, “We’ll see if she develops an interest.”

 

~*~

It’s over a month later when Yifan finally makes his presence known.

The whole city is drenched by an especially strong monsoon rain. Typhoon season came early this year.

Junmyeon is staring outside the street through the glass doors and sighing. It’s six in the evening, and the grayness of the skies made the business district look even more drab than it usually is.

“Fancy seeing you here, math genius.”

Junmyeon jumps a good foot away from him and her face displays a look of pure surprise. Yifan has to chuckle; she looks cute.

“When did you get there?” Junmyeon asks, straightening her posture.

“A few seconds ago.” Yifan answers. “Looks like we’re stranded here. This storm is not ceasing anytime soon.”

“This weather is crazy.” Junmyeon comments as soon as a particularly strong gust of wind sprays water near the entrance. “It was sunny earlier. I thought it would have been a good idea to drive a bike.”

“It’s typhoon season.” Yifan says. “I’m surprised to see you here though. I thought you wouldn’t have the spirit of volunteerism.”

She laughs, the sound melodic as the first time Yifan had heard it.

“I did volunteer once, somewhere in South Africa.”

“Cool. What did you do?”

“Sustainable lighting via geothermal means.”

Yifan cocks an eyebrow. “This place definitely does not need lighting. I’m wondering what brought you here.”

Junmyeon flushes very slightly at the question. “Well to be honest, I was wondering what you did in this place. I got kicked out of my behavioral finance class one time and I saw you exiting the health building. The rest is history.”

“So, you stalked me.” Yifan deadpans.

“I’m sorry?” Junmyeon sounded sheepish.

“Has your curiosity finally been sated?”

“Not really. I still want to know why you work here.”

“I don’t work here, Miss Kim. I’m just a volunteer.”

Junmyeon looks at him and says nothing more. The rain is whipping harder than ever. It is cold and she shivers. Yifan in a sudden act of chivalry shrugs off his cardigan and drapes it over Junmyeon’s shoulders.

“Don’t get sick.” Yifan tells her. “Majority of our cancer patients seem to like you.”

Junmyeon pulls on his cardigan and smiles. “Thanks.”

She remains silent once again, there is a faraway look in her eyes. Yifan begins to wonder what could be in that genius head of hers.

“Why would you volunteer in this kind of place?” She asks, not meeting his gaze. “It’s harrowing.”

“It’s not if you think of it as more than a place where people come to die.”

“Does it not affect you? I sometimes look at the kids and it makes me angry how they’re only given five years, barely a blip, when they could be so much more. Some of them could one day make a difference but they’re not given the chance and on the other hand some useless people wander about without sickness and wasting their goddamned lives. It makes me sick.”

“It affects me. But I’m about to become a doctor in two years, I’ll have to get used to the fact that people will die and there is nothing I can do to save them.”

“That’s it?”

Yifan looks at her. “I volunteer here not to get used to death but to learn empathy. People are more profound when they’re dying and it’s an experience to be with them, to share their thoughts and learn how to _really_ care. Don’t be so angry with the world, miss Kim. Everyone’s going to have to die anyway. It’s not about how short life is, it’s how we live it.”

Junmyeon turns to smile at him and for some odd reason, Yifan’s chest tightens.

“You’re going to be an amazing doctor.”

For the first time, Yifan is compelled to return her smile.

“I’ll drive you home.” He says, “It’s late and this rain is not stopping anytime soon.”

“Thanks.”

 

Junmyeon lives in those expensive apartment towers located not so far from the business district. Yifan notes her residence and pieces the information Yixing had given him.

Kim Junmyeon might be a _chaebol_ heiress or something. But she is really an odd character, her demeanor and overall cynicism made her almost mysterious to such an extent. Yifan is rather fascinated.

Currently, she’s dozing off on his passenger seat as he parks right in front of her building. He wants to wake her up but she looks rather peaceful. Her blonde hair is in tangles, covering half of her face and Yifan succumbs to his unstoppable urge to brush it away.

He tucks her hair behind her ears and for a while, he just stares and studies her face. The whole situation is honestly weird, and he is acting like a bona fide creep, but he can’t help it. Kim Junmyeon is beautiful and the mystery surrounding her makes her more enticing.

_What the actual fuck, Wu Yifan._

“Junmyeon.” He calls, moving back a little. “We’re here.”

She snaps her eyes open and proceeds to yawn rather ungracefully. Yifan inwardly chuckles.

“I think I have a crick in my neck.”

Yifan laughs. “See you soon, Kim Junmyeon.”

“Thanks for dropping me off, Yifan. Also, can we drop the formalities? You honestly sound like my professors.”

“Sure, Junmyeon.”

“Bye.”

~*~

It has become a pattern somehow, like the first time they met.

Yifan’s about to enter his vehicle when he hears a distinct, indignant shout. It’s Junmyeon of course, but the only difference this time is that she sounds considerably sober.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

There are two men dangerously closing in upon her from the front and back. Junmyeon, instead of looking frightened, is more resigned than anything. Yifan approaches with caution.

“Look, I’m not getting into some kind of fling with you again. How many times do I have to tell you, you dumb fuck.”

“I like it when you’re sober.” The man says. “You act like I don’t make you scream.”

“Be very grateful then, I was drunk enough to actually think your puny dick gave me some sort of pleasure. Now, fuck off.”

The man grabs Junmyeon by the arm and forcefully turns her towards him. “Aww, babe. You wound me.”

Yifan sprints, sensing that she is about to get into some serious altercation but before he manages to reach her, Junmyeon has already planted a solid punch squarely into the man’s face. The man stumbles, clutching his bloodied nose.

“You bitch!” He shouts.

Junmyeon is about to lunge for another kick when the second man, who had been idly standing behind, grabs her hair. Junmyeon shouts in pain but then retaliates by elbowing the man who grabbed him.

“Ah fuck.” Yifan whispers to himself. “Not again.”

He does not think twice when he kicks the man Junmyeon had punched.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon lands another punch, “What are you doing here?” and a kick. The man who grabbed her slumps to the ground, seemingly knocked out by the force of Junmyeon’s last assault.

_What even is this woman?_

“Why do I always find you in these situations?” Yifan sighs, “You should learn how to avoid shitty people.” He slaps the disrespectful bastard on the mouth. Yifan made him bleed.

“Wow, thanks for reminding me of my shitty decisions.” Junmyeon says undoing her hair. Yifan’s throat goes dry. He likes her hair so much, wonders how it would feel against his fingers.

“This shit had the gall to grab my hair. What a bastard.”

“You’re bleeding.” Yifan looks away. “I have a kit in my car.”

 

“Are you doctors always this prepared?”

Yifan swipes the antiseptic on her scratched skin and shakes his head. “No, it’s the effect of constantly having drunkard friends. They get into so much shit and I think it’s not such a bad deal to come prepared.” He attaches a bandage on her wound and puts the medical kit away.

“Thanks though,” Junmyeon tells him, smiling, “for saving my ass, again.”

“You look like you didn’t need it anyway. Do you practice martial arts?”

“Krav Maga.” She shrugs, “I always get into the same shit you’ve witnessed me in. I got beaten by a bunch of fucktards one time, and I decided it has got to be the end of it. It worked.”

Yifan glances at her. Junmyeon’s staring back at him with her perfect hazel eyes and her blonde hair framing her beautiful face.

It’s erratic, Yifan’s heartbeat is erratic and he is at a total loss as to why that is.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Yifan says as he averts his gaze, “you really need to get yourself better friends.”

Junmyeon’s smiling at Donald Duck’s face on the surface of the band aid Yifan had stuck to her skin.

“Can I call you a better friend then?”

The woman’s smile is ambiguous with flecks of sadness.

Yifan nods, “You’re such an odd woman. After puking on me the first time we met you still don’t consider me a friend?”

Junmyeon lets out a small startled laugh at the statement and the sound makes Yifan’s chest constrict, like when he’s had enough coffee and his heart is doing strange backflips.

“Thanks, I needed that.”

Yifan merely nods and the urge to tuck Junmyeon’s hair behind her ear makes its presence known. The man turns away.

~*~

Just like Junmyeon’s whole persona, the friendship they develop is somewhat, odd.

No one knows why the school’s notorious Kim Junmyeon who took no shit from anybody and the gifted, albeit aloof medical student, Wu Yifan are seen together most of the time.

Yifan has since quit asking why Junmyeon never seemed to attend any classes because she’d casually told him she didn’t feel like it. Yifan hadn’t asked her to elaborate the reasons why, and he surmises that with her brain, she probably does not really need any more tedious lessons.

However, even the oddest of friendship seemed to work if the parties involved are willing to make it work. Yifan realizes this the longer he spends time with Junmyeon.

They’re inside the music hall. Yifan’s idly caressing the Steinway into random notes, not really playing. He’s still unable to play with an audience present.

“Are you never gonna play for me?”

Junmyeon is leaning against the piano much like the second time they met. Yifan shrugs and his fingers cease dancing upon the keys completely.

“Maybe next time.”

“You’re talented.” Junmyeon chuckles. “Stravinsky would have rolled in his grave if he heard you though.”

“That sounded like a backhanded compliment. Are you saying my playing sucks?”

Junmyeon chuckles, “Your playing’s fine. But you play like you’ve memorized the sheet music. Playing doesn’t have to be as surgically precise you know. I mean you’re a doctor and all but you get the idea.”

Yifan stares at the contrasting piano keys and shrugs. “It’s hard to make it sound different.”

Junmyeon stares at him, smirking. “Because you don’t want to make it sound different.” Surprisingly, she sits beside him on the piano stool and starts playing a Chopin nocturne.

The familiar notes of Chopin’s famous op. 9 no. 2 oscillate throughout the hall in rushed portions. Junmyeon plays well. There’s an artistic flair to her playing and although Yifan might have memorized the sheet music to the piece and knew _exactly_ how it sounded, he admits that he is fond of the woman’s almost careless rendition.

The music ends. Junmyeon’s fingers are still on the keys and Yifan starts to become aware of the proximity between their bodies.

She turns to face him, her smirk gone only to be replaced by a gentle smile. “Live a little, Yifan.”

“Easier said than done.”

Junmyeon laughs at him, “Then what about I just show you?”

~*~

For such an angelic looking woman, Junmyeon surely does not drive like one.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Yifan tries to calmly ask as he anchors himself on the bars attached to Junmyeon’s motorcycle. She is speeding (illegally) through Seoul’s non-existent late-night traffic. Yifan swears under his breath.

“Get used to it.” Junmyeon shouts just before she makes the vehicle careen forward, faster. Yifan is going to die tonight. He wonders what compelled him to even agree to this sudden excursion, and right now it is safe to say that he is in a state of complete regret.

“Will you slow down a bit? I don’t want to die just yet!”

Junmyeon does not slow down; she stops though, clenching her palms around the breaks of the vehicle that the resulting force causes Yifan to knock his forehead against her helmet clad head. Junmyeon is still chuckling when she removes her helmet. Yifan narrows his eyes at her.

“I told you, live a little.”

“If you continue to drive like that, I’m positive you will literally live a little.”

There isn’t anything very amusing about the whole statement but for some odd reason, it made Junmyeon laugh. Yifan sighs. What is he even getting himself into?

“Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“Downtown.” Junmyeon answers.

Apparently, they are in front of some decrepit building. Once upon a time, the façade must have been more than a faded, paint chipping mess. Yifan eyes the building warily. The place is not completely silent for sounds could be faintly heard from outside.

“Are you sure this isn’t some place where you cut me open and sell my organs to the black market?” Yifan asks as he dismounts from the bike.

Junmyeon stares at him, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just trying to make things clear.” Yifan shrugs, “I wasn’t planning on spending my day off at an establishment where my safety is being put into a questionable risk.”

“I told you Yifan, live a little.” Junmyeon rolls her eyes as she gathers her long hair up into a high ponytail. Yifan watches the action with acute fascination. “What’s wrong?”

Yifan snaps out from his reverie, coughing. “Nothing.”

Junmyeon raises a perfectly shaped brow at him and Yifan looks away.

They eventually enter the dilapidated building. As expected, inside is as rickety as outside. It’s a club of some sort, there’s a stage and a musical setup tucked in one corner of the room. The tiled floor is grimy and the marble counters are rundown and scratched. The light fixtures emit a sickening glow, bathing the whole area in faded orange. It makes Yifan’s head ache.

On the other hand, Junmyeon is looking and most probably feeling the opposite of Yifan’s general discomfort. She’s smiling as she strides towards the bar counter.

“Junmyeon!”

The bartender is an olive-skinned man and has a friendly smile.

“Hi Hakyeon, is Taek around?”

The bartender purses his lips before placing a drink in front of Junmyeon. “Nope, your lover boy isn’t around.”

“Taekwoon isn’t my lover boy. What the hell, Yeon.”

“Whatever.” Hakyeon says, he is now staring at Yifan. Grin particularly sly. “I’m Hakyeon, what can I get you?”

“Hakyeon’s bloody mary is amazing.” Junmyeon suggests. Yifan shrugs, “I’ll get a pint of beer, thanks.”

As Hakyeon turns to prepare his drink, Yifan occupies the seat beside Junmyeon and quietly stares at the woman as she consumes her martini. In the last few minutes, patrons start pouring inside and noise escalates slightly.

“Your perfectionist ass isn’t going to love this place at all.” Junmyeon says.

Hakyeon returns with Yifan’s pint of beer and quietly leaves them be. “And why is that?”

Just as the question leaves his lips, the place erupts into an applause. Yifan stares at the stage where Hakyeon and five more people stand behind their respective instruments.

“Good evening everyone.” Hakyeon says into the mic before striking the piano. The audience hoots.

“You brought me to a jazz club?” Yifan is incredulous.

Junmyeon nods. “Fun fact, I learned the piano because of Hakyeon. He’s fucking amazing.” 

Hakyeon is a great player indeed, creative. He plays his own jazz rendition of famous contemporary music dotted with classical pieces. Yifan wishes he could play like Hakyeon. He wishes he could play in that careless, yet breathtakingly, fascinating way.

“Let’s dance!” Junmyeon suddenly tells him. She’s already vacated her seat and is circling her petite fingers around Yifan’s wrist.

Indignant, Yifan yells. “No, I can’t dance!”

“Did I ask if you could?” Junmyeon laughs. “I told you Fan, live a little.”

Yifan did not know that he is very susceptible and extremely vulnerable against smiling, crescent shaped eyes. Against his will, he finds himself being led towards the middle of the grimy dance floor. Junmyeon is still laughing as they try to dance, try being the keyword.

For the first time, Yifan sees Junmyeon radiate with happiness. Her laughter is infectious and Yifan finds himself going against his very principles. He dances amidst crowds of other dancing people. He hears laughter and a dozen other voices mingling into a loud cacophony.

Yifan likes it. He grabs Junmyeon by the waist, his palm flat against her back. Junmyeon stills against him. “Having fun?”

The medical student leans down to answer. “This is fucking insane but I like it.”

Junmyeon smiles at him – the same smile that reaches her eyes and makes her look like a complete angel – and for some reason everything around Yifan fades into the background. Under the sickening orange light, Junmyeon seemed to glow.

Yifan’s heartbeat is a little erratic.

~*~

 

Junmyeon drops him off in front of his apartment building around one in the morning. Both are completely sober and yet Yifan feels dizzy, like he’d been drunk.

“Thank you.” He tells Junmyeon as he dismounts from her bike. He stands there unmoving. They have known each other for over two months and for some odd reason, Yifan feels like he’s known her since forever.

“I was wrong then.” Junmyeon says, “Your perfectionist ass seemed to enjoy music that’s frankly been botched. And it’s good fun, right?”

Yifan just smiles.

“Live a little, alright?”

Yifan had been thinking about it all night and coupled with Junmyeon’s own words, Yifan throws caution to the wind and leans in to leave a small lingering kiss against the side of Junmyeon’s mouth. He grins, “I’ll put that in mind. Good night Junmyeon, I had fun.”

Junmyeon chuckles and says her goodbye before speeding into the night.

Yifan’s heartbeat is erratic.

~*~

“Kim Industries wants to buy the hospice.”

It’s the first thing that Yixing says to Yifan the moment he steps inside the volunteer’s lounge. He eyes the palliative nurse in disbelief. “What?”

“The director had a meeting with a representative earlier.” The nurse sighs, massaging his temples. “They’re backing us into a wall.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means we can’t say no, Yifan. We aren’t given the option to refuse.”

Yifan’s blood runs cold. “You mean the directors agreed?”

“They didn’t, and that’s the problem. The director can’t not agree. I’m not sure what cards they pulled on us but we just can’t refuse.”

“What the hell do the Kims even want with this place?! They practically own this fucking country.”  

Yixing doesn’t answer. Yifan’s blood boils. “Until when?”

“When what?”

“When do we have to give up the hospice?”

“In six months.”

Yifan screws his eyes.

This can’t be happening.

~*~

“You look like your cat’s been stolen.” Junmyeon remarks before sitting beside Yifan on the grass. “Pineapple fruit tape. Want some?”

Yifan shakes his head. He’s not in the mood to talk anyone right now but for reasons he dares not ponder, Junmyeon’s presence calms him.

“I’ve got bad news from the Hospice.” Yifan tells her. “It’s closing down in six months.”

Junmyeon stops chewing on her fruit tapes and turns to face Yifan. “What? Why?”

“The Kim Industries want to buy it.”

Yifan studies Junmyeon’s reaction. It went from confused, to horrified, to angered before it completely neutralizes. When she speaks, her tone sounded resigned. “Did they tell why?”

“No reason at all. As far as I’m concerned haven’t they been like that in the first place? Small businesses falling into their capitalist hands.” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle, “Maybe that’s why this country’s so rich, we’ve basically sold ourselves to the Kims.”

Junmyeon becomes uncharacteristically quiet beside him, Yifan wonders why.

“Do you hate them?”

“Who?”

“Kim Industries.”

“I don’t.” is Yifan’s honest answer. “But for once, I want them to cease their greed. Money runs the world, but it’s not everything.”

Junmyeon remains quiet. Her reaction to the news is so uncharacteristic and it completely throws Yifan off.

“I’m sorry about the hospice Fan.” She tells him. “I wish I could do something about it.”

“I wish too.”

They remain quiet until Junmyeon phone rings. She fishes the sleek device out of her pocket to answer the call.

“Yes, this is his sister? What happened to him?”

It’s spoken in English.

“What?!”

“Alright. Transfer him to a hospital in New York and forward me the details. I’ll be there.”

The call soon ends. Never has Yifan seen Junmyeon in such distress that he can’t help but pry.

“It’s my brother.” Junmyeon says, running a hand through her hair. “I have to leave, Yifan. I’ll call you.”

“Okay, call me alright?”

Junmyeon nods.

Yifan is worried.


	4. cranial decompression

Junmyeon hates plane rides with a passion. It did not matter whether she is cramped in some economy seat in a flight to some god forsaken country, or if she is lounging against the expensive leather seats of her family’s private jet.

Private jet, she scoffs, what an unnecessary luxury.

She hates plane rides. Her borderline claustrophobia makes her sick as hell and she’d rather opt to be confined in some death trap, as long as it is not floating more than fifty thousand feet off land.

 

It’s a feat, per se, that she has managed to brave a thirteen-hour flight from Seoul to New York. Her vision is still swimming even after landing on a private airstrip in JFK and the first thing she does is hurl her insides at an empty trash bin. She is worried to death about her younger brother and the feeling claws at her.

Jongin is fine, they say it so easily, like her brother did not almost drown, like he is not lying on a hospital bed pale as the sheets covering half of his body.

Junmyeon is sick with worry, she did not even afford the luxury of snapping at her parents for dismissing the incident like it had been nothing.

The thing is, Jongin’s existence is to the key to her sanity. Jongin reminds her that she is not all too alone in such a complex world, suffocated by the tempest that is her own mind. Jongin is family and the mere notion of losing him drives her half insane.

“She is fine, June.”

The female doctor is Irene Bae – one of the few people who Junmyeon considers a friend in this part of the globe – and her smile is placating but unhelpful.

They met in MIT. Both were part of the same Korean community in the university. Irene calls her June, because her Korean has never been good and her pronunciation, stiff. Irene is a good friend, albeit not having seen each other close to five years.

“He doesn’t look like it.” The worry in Junmyeon’s voice is palpable. She approaches Jongin’s still form and gently traces the gaunt lines of his unusually pale skin.

“He will be, he is your brother after all.” Irene tells her, patient, too understanding for her own good. Junmyeon is lucky to have known her. Irene simply takes her into a soft hug. “It’s been years since I last saw you. I feel bad that our reunion had to be like this.”

“I’m sorry.”  

Irene reiterates, “He’ll be fine.” before eventually leaving Junmyeon to her own devices.

Junmyeon exhales, “Please wake up.”

~*~

Jongin comes around a day later, disoriented. He tells Junmyeon his vision is swimming and promptly passes out. Junmyeon has been awake for the last three days and her head, her body…just, everything aches.

When Jongin wakes up for the second time, he is fully conscious – somewhat. Blank eyes volley Junmyeon’s concerned gaze. “Noona?”

Jongin’s voice is raw and hoarse from disuse but Junmyeon is infinitely happy to hear him talk. She approaches Jongin and makes sure she is not walking on egg shells around him. She surmises Jongin could do with the familiarity. “How are you feeling?”

Jongin smiles, and Junmyeon could almost see pieces of himself seeping through the pretend visage. “Like death. Thanks for asking.”

The statement makes Junmyeon chuckle – sadly – she does not know what to say so she hands Jongin a water bottle and prompts him to drink.

“I’ll call your doctor.” It’s an excuse. Junmyeon needs to breathe.

Jongin’s fingers immediately wrap around her wrist, tugging weakly. “Can you please stay, noona?”

And Junmyeon does stay. Jongin struggles to rise and when he does, he simply presses himself against Junmyeon’s shoulder and inhales, fingers finding purchase on Junmyeon’s shirt. When he lets out the breath he had been holding, Jongin cries. Jongin doesn’t simply whimper, he sobs, like a child who’d been abandoned – raw and guttural – and it makes Junmyeon’s chest constrict, knowing that she can’t do anything about it this time. After all, what does Junmyeon know of heartache or the kind of pain that pulls at the heart and shreds it? She knows nothing of it.

Jongin’s gasping in broken sentences, indented with a clear enunciation of Soojung’s name. Junmyeon does not feel too bad when she reaches behind Jongin to press the emergency button for a false code blue.

As the doctors force Jongin back to sleep, something screams at the back of Junmyeon’s mind that maybe, maybe Jongin knows what heartache feels like, the kind of pain that pulls at the heart and tears it to shreds.

~*~

Yifan’s face is a gritty projection when the video call connects. It is 2:15 in the afternoon, Junmyeon is exhausted, her mind a tumultuous chaos.

“Hi?”

Yifan’s projection is shaky, because he is shuffling in bed. Junmyeon suddenly remembers the fourteen hours that lapsed in between them.

“Hi.”  

Yifan’s voice is hoarse, smiling blandly as he reaches for his glasses on the night stand.

“I’m sorry.” Junmyeon chuckles, “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s 4am Myeon, what do you expect me to say?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to see your face.”

Yifan just stares at her and Junmyeon badly wishes that there’s no whole ocean separating them.

She falls over her bed. The soft sheets are cold and unfamiliar though the beddings are the same in all the places she owns – the most expensive Egyptian cotton money can buy. The New York flat is like a hotel more than a personal abode, empty and impeccably spotless just like her penthouse in London or her expensive apartment in Tokyo. It’s all the same to her, and they all make her feel like she is isolated inside some expensive prison cell.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” She tells him, “Tired, I guess.”

“Tell me about it. I was doing my rounds in the ER today, it was insane.”

She wants Yifan to hold her, and maybe forget the whole damn world for a while.

Junmyeon quits listening to whatever he is saying as the realization dawns on her. It is ominous and unwanted but she craves it, she needs it.

“You don’t seem fine.”

The question brings her back to the present. Junmyeon likes that about him, his honesty is refreshing and peculiarly endearing.

“Correct. I just didn’t want to be alone.”

She feels bad for holding him up and stealing his precious sleeping time.

“I hope I can do something about it.”

His voice, hindered by static and bad connection, drips with concern. Junmyeon’s pathetic heart betrays her as it skips a beat.

“You’re doing just fine by answering the call.”

Yifan’s eyelids are dropping and there is a small half-awake smile on his face.

“I might fall asleep on you though.”

“It’s okay. Can you…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, good night…I guess?”

“Hmm. Good night.”

Yifan does not drop the call and for what seemed like hours, Junmyeon watched him sleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his breathing calm her.

It’s like being in an illusion that she is not so alone in this frigid flat. She runs a finger across the gritty projection on her phone screen and whispers, “Good night.”

It’s better this way, at least she did not have to tell Yifan that her brother might have possibly intended to drown himself.

 

Despite the exhaustion, she does not fall asleep. She thinks about Jongin.

Jongin is such a transparent entity. He wears his heart on his sleeve proudly. He is so easy to read, and it makes him vulnerable because he is too optimistic and somewhat naïve.

Junmyeon knew enough about Jongin and Soojung.

They are – were? Junmyeon is not sure – best friends. She used to be envious of what they have: a relationship which centered around companionship and platonic affections.

Unlike her, Jongin was born normal. He is inherently brilliant too but without the unnecessary genius that Junmyeon harbored like a curse. Unlike her, Jongin is a social creature. He forged good relationships, friendships that last, and he never had Junmyeon’s messy phases with their parents.

The perfect son, per se, a son which every parent would be blessed to have.

Jongin met Soojung through familial business allegiances. She is the only daughter of a banking magnate and he is the only son of Asia’s most prolific business conglomerate.

They are the perfect match. Junmyeon used to think their parents would have thrown them into an arranged marriage for money. Surprisingly they did not.

The two, they did not fall in love, as far as Junmyeon is concerned. For the longest time, they are best friends but something more. They had this vague relationship that danced in between friends and lovers and it was perfect. Junmyeon envied it.

But then again, Junmyeon is merely a spectator watching in the sidelines. She had been unaware that there is no vague line between friendship and romantic love. You choose one and the other burns.

Junmyeon was unware that Jongin had long crossed the line and Soojung met him halfway.

But things just don’t work out perfectly for everyone or as much as Jongin’s misery convey. Even the most perfect match cannot be so perfect after all.

No one would have guessed that it is going to end here though, with Jongin chalky against hospital sheets crying out Soojung’s name like he’d been destroyed.

Junmyeon continues to stare at Yifan’s sleeping face and the ominous need for him to be near is startling. Junmyeon does not want to address such feelings because she is afraid.

Unlike Jongin, Junmyeon is the complete opposite. She is far too complicated with too much emotional baggage and years’ worth of self-misgivings she had conveniently swept under the rug of pretense. She is cracked in so many places, fissures too deep, even she cannot delve into.

Junmyeon is afraid because even someone like Jongin – Jongin who is kind and almost perfect – is torn into pieces after subjecting himself to such an abstract idea as love.

She cannot let these feelings bait her into love. Love is not for her, because she’s damaged and far too fragile for something so dangerous.

But Yifan…somehow, Junmyeon wants to make him an exception. For a while, she wonders just how crazy that is but then she remembers the feel of his soft lips against the side of her mouth, a feeling that was barely there and yet she could not take it off her mind.

Falling in love with Yifan is a crazy idea…Junmyeon wants to try it.

~*~

Soojung is still pretty despite looking visibly exhausted. Her eyes are red rimmed, as if she had not slept in days.

“Can I see him?”

Junmyeon surprises herself by feeling not too hostile about the whole ordeal. Last night had given her the much-needed clarity to think about things and she admits she has no say in this one. It’s all between Jongin and Soojung.

Junmyeon tries to smile, “I think you should be the one answering that.”

Soojung looks stricken. “I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have – I’m so sorry unnie.”  

The poor girl is in hysterics, Junmyeon can’t think of anything to say that would have placated her.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Soojung.”

“I really ruined it for us, huh? I’m pathetic.”

Junmyeon looks at her and sighs, “Look, I don’t know what the hell happened between you two. I’m here because Jongin had been hurt and I’m just doing what an older sister is supposed to be doing. But your issues, those aren’t mine to tread on. Now, I only ask you one thing, are you ready to see him?”

“I’ll never be ready but I need to, he’s still my best friend after all.”

 

Later, when Junmyeon asks Jongin to come back to Korea with her, he refuses.

“I still have classes. Professor Benin already hates me far too much, it wouldn’t do me any good if I skip more.”

 It’s so typical of him, to stand up after being shoved so low. So Junmyeon acquiesces and personally drives him back to his apartment in Boston. Jongin looks empty and he doesn’t mention anything regarding his talk with Soojung nor whatever it is that had caused the situation in the first place. Junmyeon does not prod.

“Go on a vacation sometime, okay?”

Jongin does not promise her that he would but he does admit that he’ll be fine.

“Maybe not now.” Jongin says, “I’ll be okay, noona. I promise.”

Junmyeon believes him.

~*~

Seoul weather is great.

“You seem happy.”

The night is balmy and quiet. Junmyeon’s pajama clad thigh brushes with Yifan’s and it really can’t be more perfect than this.

Junmyeon nods. “I am. The problem this month is great, challenging. I liked it.”

“You sure did.”

“Did something happen?”

Yifan does not answer for the longest time. Junmyeon’s already idly plucking the blades of grass from where they’re sitting at. Yifan sags against her with a long sigh.

It’s in a quiet voice that he answers, “Someone passed away in the hospice today.”

“Oh.”

Yifan shrugs, “I did not expect it to hit me this hard, all this after clearing your misconceptions about the hospice. It turned out that they’re pretty accurate.”

Junmyeon taps him in the shoulder so Yifan reclines and looks at her.

“I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon tugs at his shirt and gestures towards her extended legs, particularly on her covered thighs. Yifan laughs.

“What? I’m trying to be a good friend. A friend who’ll offer you some peace and quiet and a nice head scratch.”

“Alright, alright.”

Yifan lies down with his head on top of Junmyeon’s thighs. Junmyeon stares at him and she’s thankful that the quad lights have been dimmed and Yifan can’t see her flushed face. This is a bad idea. But she likes it anyhow. She slowly rakes her fingers on Yifan’s messy hair; they stay quiet.

“Were you close?” Junmyeon asks, “To that patient?”

“I call her Min-ah. She was eighty-five but she didn’t know. She was passionate about flowers – Tulips –  the yellow ones.”

“I guess she was wonderful.”

Yifan chuckles, “She was. It’s nice to have been there and see her final years. She was brilliant, Junmyeon. I’ve learned a lot from her.” 

Junmyeon has ceased running her fingers against the man’s hair but she has been unknowingly caressing his cheek, idly studying the perfect planes of his handsome face.

“Aren’t you too sad? You know if you wanna drink I’m game.”

“I’m fine.” Yifan chuckles, “It’s too late to get drunk. Anyway, how was your brother?”

“He was okay. He spent a couple of days in the hospital and jumped back to his classes.”

“Do you mind telling me what happened to him?”

“I don’t know, Fan. I’ll tell you he was sad, very sad. It’s scary because he was in love with his best friend and I guess things just went to hell.”

Yifan is quiet.

“I’ve never been in love.” He tells her. “I don’t know what love feels like but I am under the impression it makes people happy.”

Junmyeon shrugs and when she looks down, Yifan is staring at her. He reaches up to tuck the wayward strands of her long blonde hair behind her ear. Junmyeon cannot describe the feeling.

“Me too. Maybe it’s not like that for everyone.”

“If I fall in love I don’t want to be constantly miserable about it. I want to be happy.” Yifan says, smiling gently. His finger idly twirling a section of Junmyeon’s blonde hair and he is still staring at her. “I want to find a person who’ll make me relinquish control.”

“I don’t know.” is Junmyeon’s answer. For some reason, she does not feel like her blood pressure is skyrocketing nor her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest. It is perfect to be in this moment despite all the confusion simmering at the back of her head. “Do you think such person exists?”

“She exists.” Yifan answers. “I believe she exists.”

Maybe this is the reason why she is far too good at Mathematics. It is not complex, problems may have differing solutions but they always end in the same answers. Human emotions are far too complicated without constant variables. Emotions are inconclusive, and there could be so many answers to one fleeting feeling.

“It makes me wonder if you’re brave enough to actually fall on your knees and relinquish control when you’re such a freak about it.” Junmyeon laughs, “Aren’t you afraid to lose so much of yourself? I don’t think it’s a fair bargain.”

“Nothing’s fair in love. I think people is confused by it. It’s not easy to fall in love with a person and not just the idea of love. Because love is faultless and it’s so easy to be entitled to think that when falling in love, the person on the receiving end should be faultless, should be perfect too. But no one’s perfect Junmyeon. If I find a person who’s capable to fall in love and stay in love despite imperfections, that’s it. If I ever reach that point, I’ll gladly fall on my knees then.”

His words effectively put a stopper to Junmyeon’s further teasing. “Do you think you’ll fall in love with someone who’s so imperfect, with someone who’s just a whole goddamned mess, and manage to be happy?”

“I do. I look at people like the color spectrum. No one’s just black or white, we’re all standing in that colorful area in between.”

“That’s incredibly poetic.” Her erratic heartbeat is hidden with a chuckle. “Are you normally this wise when it’s like the ass crack of dawn?”

“I don’t know. You bring out the poetic sap in me, so you answer that question.”

Junmyeon laughs.

“Are you happy?”

“I am Fan, I guess I am happy.”

She does not want to admit that he is the reason of a good portion of her happiness.

~*~

Kim Junmyeon, mathematical prodigy, conglomerate heiress and the black sheep of the Kim Family.

From the beginning, Junmyeon didn’t foster much love for her parents. She respects them a lot for being such good moneymaking capitalist but never harbored even the fondest feelings for the people who had apparently brought her into this world.

Frankly, she was a mistake, born out of an arranged marriage to people who did not give much of a shit about each other until Jongin was born.

She spent nine years with them, and never recalled anything that equated into something worth remembering. She was well provided though, with material things. Lavish presents on birthdays she spent with Jongin and the household workers inside a lonely mansion, endless holidays that brought forth more loneliness than bliss.

The only time she even felt remotely happy was a Chuseok holiday when she was seven. It was the first time she’d been to Busan after begging her nanny, a woman she called auntie Lee, to take her. Her parents were away, doing business in Italy with three-year-old Jongin in tow. Junmyeon was alone and lonely, her nanny could not say no. 

 Auntie Lee had a small house but it was warm. Warm in a way that gave her excitement and happiness.

Her nanny had a great family too and there were other children that played with Junmyeon. People were laughing and they all look so happy.

Junmyeon wondered why she can’t be happy like them.

When they got back to Seoul her parents had been alerted and it was the last time Junmyeon had seen auntie Lee ever again.

Seven-year-old Junmyeon began to resent her parents after that. She resented them even more when they sent her to the UK effectively separating her from her younger brother.

At the present, twenty-three-year-old Junmyeon stares at her reflection, chuckling darkly. She is clad in a black, figure hugging dress, that bared an ample amount of cleavage and that probably cost a couple hundred million won. The dress is accessorized with a gleaming Harry Winston necklace around her neck.

She looks like the heiress she hates to be. Junmyeon loved luxury but she loathed excesses, no matter how contradictory that sounded.

And this whole getup for a simple company event is the very definition of excess. Jongin would have scoffed at the sight of her, he hated unnecessary wasting of money.

Her blonde hair is nowhere to be found. After her mother had conveniently asked her to get rid of it, she did, by replacing it with a shock of red hair. Her mother was not explicit about what color it should be so Junmyeon took matters into her own hands.

A good choice, she notes, as she watches waves of bright scarlet fall down her back. She is probably going to give her mother a heart attack after this.

~*~

The gala is held at a private function hall away from the general bustle of the city. There are tons of wealthy people prancing around the guarded estate, Junmyeon inwardly scoffs at everyone.

Women secretly appraise it each other, judging looks creatively hidden behind amicable civility. Junmyeon sees through it, after all she is at the receiving end of most stares. She does not really care, the balls of her feet hurt so she lets the diamonds around her neck do the talking.

The event is generally about boasting. The Kim Mixed industries has recently acquired far too many properties here and around the globe in the recent year. The function is held to gather interested businessmen to work for the company.

Junmyeon looks at each one of these old liars and wonders if she’d bring hell upon them when she sits as CEO. Jongin has two more years of college and Junmyeon is probably going to hold office once their father becomes chairman – or the master puppeteer as what Junmyeon calls the position.

What a concept. Junmyeon is probably going to raze the company to the ground if they ever force this hellhole upon her.

The whole thing is mind numbing until she hears talks about Green Meadows – the hospice Yifan works at.

They’re going to destroy it for another building that would eventually hold the conglomerate’s archives. The truth horrifies Junmyeon.

“Why does it have to be that building?” Junmyeon questioned tersely as the old man stared down at her.

“Why do you care?”

“Just answer the question father.”

“Come with me.”

She follows her father to a secluded area away from the ballroom. “We need that building to cover a tax evasion case. I am afraid we will be under federal investigation soon if I do not do anything about it. We could cover up the case by purchasing small buildings around the business center to hide the bigger proceedings.”

“Tax evasion? Are you crazy?”

“Do not talk to me like that, Kim Junmyeon. Do you think our family did nothing and just magically emerged on top of the food chain? I am sorry to burst your naïve bubble, child.”

Junmyeon knew, of course. But she is oblivious regarding the inner workings, not to mention the illegal proceedings. This cannot be happening.

“But what if Jongin takes over your position and this whole mess blows out of proportions by that time. Are you that heartless?”

The old man’s stare sent a warning chill down Junmyeon’s spine.

“That is why I am trying as much as I can to cover up the cases. If it gets to it, I assume Jongin will know what to do. He is not weak, unlike you. I suggest you lay off.”

That is not the first time Junmyeon had ever heard those words. She has been compared to her younger brother since forever. It barely makes her feel anything.

Junmyeon does not say anything as she watches her father turn his back on her. The conversation is forgotten.

~*~

It’s raining again.

The designer dress is uncomfortable as much as it’s stifling. Her heels have also been discarded on the floor of the limousine. She cradles her head in her palms as the rain pelts harshly against the heavily tinted windows. She cannot stop thinking about her old man’s words.

Junmyeon is one hundred percent sure that the conglomerate is going to face massive cases soon. It will only take a short time to let a single discrepancy seep through the cracks of their seemingly legal business proceedings. Her father will mess up, she can feel it. It’s also for certain that the board has been left in the dark about the whole ordeal. The older Kim would never let something like this mar his reputation – getting a subpoena will effectively cost him his position.

It does not make her feel bad but when she realizes that Jongin will soon be taking over the conglomerate, a new wave of worry washes over her like a tsunami. There’s a big possibility that her father will land himself in jail if this continues and she cannot let Jongin handle the ensuing chaos.

Her head aches.

“Fuck.” Junmyeon murmurs harshly, more to herself than anyone. “They’ve really backed me up against a wall this time huh?”

Junmyeon screws her eyes shut, wanting to calm herself while her whole being is shaking with barely suppressed panic. There is an overwhelming need to see Yifan. She presses a button on the side of her seat.

“Hey, Jung.”

“Yes, Miss Kim?”

“Do you think you can do a detour for me. I really don’t wanna go home. Is it okay if you could drive me to the dorms near SNU?”

“Oh, of course Miss Kim. Anything else?”

“That’s all. Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s alright.”

It’s around two in the morning when Jung drops her off, in front of the dimly illuminated building where Yifan resides. She is purely exhausted and does not even bother to wait for the chauffer to open the door for her. Junmyeon is thoroughly drenched the moment she steps outside. Uncaring and barefoot, Junmyeon dismisses the chauffer’s panicked voice.

“It’s okay, just go.”

“But Miss Kim.”

“I’m okay. Go.”

 

She is cold and wet, knocking at Yifan’s door in such an ungodly hour, when she realizes how entirely stupid her situation is. It’s too late to back out because Yifan readily opens the door at third knock, all bleary eyed.

“Hi.” Junmyeon feebly says.

“Junmyeon why are you drenched?” Yifan says, “Your hair?”

Typical of him. It’s the first thing he notices and not her clothes, or the glittering rocks adorning her neck. Junmyeon really likes him.

“Come inside.”

“I’m sorry. I keep being a bother to you at such terrible hours. You must have been jinxed.”

Yifan leads her into his bedroom, grabbing a spare towel for her in the cabinet between the hallway.

“It’s okay. I’m kind of used to it. The bathroom is inside, there’s a spare toothbrush behind the mirror. Are you okay with using my clothes?”

Junmyeon just wants him to stop talking so she does by pressing her towel clad self against his broad frame. She wants a hug, because she is too tired to even think of other things. Almost as if he’d been surprised, Yifan returns the embrace, squeezing her softly as he undoes the little pins on her hair. “Are you okay?”

Junmyeon’s answer gets smothered by his shirt.

“Change out of these clothes and I’ll get you hot chocolate. Hmm?”

“Okay.”

~*~

Later, Junmyeon’s face is devoid of makeup, her red hair is damp and up in a loose bun. The Valentino dress she wore is stuffed inside Yifan’s dryer and her one-million-dollar diamond wreath necklace is haphazardly tossed on Yifan’s side table, like it’s plastic jewelry. Junmyeon hardly cares.

She’s wearing Yifan’s boxers and a hoodie that practically engulfed her frame. Her lack of upper undergarment hardly deterred her from walking into the living room.

Yifan’s slumped over an array of thick books and only looks up when she’s near. “Hey.” He smiles.

He’s so attractive, with a genial smile lighting up his tired face. “Here’s your hot chocolate.”

Junmyeon gladly receives the cup and notes the same cartoon mug she liked. She sits beside Yifan, and folds her legs against her chest.

“That’s a crapload of information to take in.”

“It’s my life, unfortunately.”

She appreciates that Yifan does not ask questions. For a while they bask in silence until Yifan’s roommates, both drunk beyond recognition, stumble into the doorway with their clothes half on. Junmyeon does not recognize them so she is slightly shocked when one of them brackets the other against the closed door and promptly kiss.

“I don’t think we should be seeing this.” Junmyeon finds herself chuckling.

“Me too, I wasn’t aware they’re hooking up.” 

Yifan shouts, effectively putting a stopper to what will eventually become a full on make-out session against the door. The two separate, gasping.

“What the fuck?” Yifan enunciates, “Since when did this start?”

“Like a few minutes ago,” the man had lips that curled at the corners, looking very much cat-like and slightly sly. “I w-was about – “

“Let’s take this upstairs, shall we?” the other man cuts in and grabs the cat-like guy.

“That’s my mug.” Sly smile comments, pointing at Junmyeon’s hot chocolate before getting dragged up.

“Interesting.” Junmyeon laughs.

“I hope they don’t actually start fucking soon. Jongdae’s pretty loud.”

“Wouldn’t bet on that. They’re drunk, everything happens when people are drunk.”

Yifan shrugs, “They’ve been in this push and pull relationship for god knows how long. I’m glad that I’ve been officially designated as the third wheel.”

Junmyeon finishes her hot chocolate in peace. The rhythmic tapping of Yifan’s pencil almost lulling her to sleep. She is barely awake when she feels her body being raised from the sofa. Yifan is warm and she may or may not have pressed her face against his chest, inhaling.

Yifan gently puts her on his bed and when he is about to leave, Junmyeon holds him by the wrist. She whispers, “Stay. Hold me.”

Yifan does. She curls into his chest and lets his wide palms draw circles on her back. She probably owes Yifan an explanation and the truth as to who she really is, before whatever feelings she harbors for him go completely out of control.  

But this is perfect, she is utterly content to be in this moment.

Junmyeon feels Yifan’s lips on her neck before sleep takes over her conscious.

She knows what she will have to do, and it didn’t involve sacrificing the hospice to her parents’ greed. Enough is enough.


	5. integration by parts

 

* * *

Yifan opens his eyes to the blurry image of his room’s ceiling. He is disoriented for a few short seconds before habit kicks in. He reaches an arm over to the side table for his glasses and that is when he notices the warm body right next to him.

 _Junmyeon’s red hair is in tangles_ , comes the wayward thought and as if on instinct, Yifan’s fingers are immediately on her hair, raking it into some semblance of order. The ministration wakes Junmyeon and she presses her face right against Yifan’s chest. The man thinks his brain had short circuited the night prior, because this feels all too normal – like Junmyeon on his bed is a sight he sees every morning.

“I can’t see you.” Yifan murmurs allowing her to slot their bodies together. He throws an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. “I have shitty vision.”

Whatever Junmyeon replies to that, is smothered by his shirt. Her hair smells like his shampoo and its color reminds Yifan of the skimpy, red dress Junmyeon had worn the first time they met.

They bask in late morning silence; Yifan’s fingers are drawing figures on Junmyeon’s back. They’re so close, too close and Yifan is more worried that he finds this perfectly fine. In retrospect, it is normal to be attracted to someone, but not in Yifan’s case. He does not even remember the last time he harbored the vaguest attraction for another human being.

But then there was last night. Junmyeon had her hair all gathered in a loose bun above her head, effectively displaying the slender column that is her pale neck. Yifan had been unable to stop himself from pressing his lips against her skin and it almost killed him to stop.

He should apologize to Junmyeon for that but he is not entirely sure how to word his apologies into something that would not sound clearly offensive. Junmyeon might press harassment charges on him.

Another thing about this morning, is the way Yifan refrains from asking the questions that need to be pertinently asked. Somehow, he does not want this morning to end, and he would be grateful to spend the rest of the day tangled with Junmyeon in his hold.

She had traipsed into his apartment last night, dripping wet and barefoot. She looked distraught, so Yifan held on to his curiosity and effectively managed to stop himself from spilling.

He still wants to know why she looked so different last night - in her tight dress, smudged mascara and diamond necklace. It’s like the Junmyeon he knows, had been temporarily hidden behind the sparkling impostor.

“Warm.”

“Hmm?”

Junmyeon sighs. “You’re so warm… is this okay?”

“Whatever you want, Junmyeon.” Yifan chuckles, “whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“It’s alright. You looked exceptionally pretty last night, by the way.”

“Don’t get used to it. I don’t like dressing up as a shiny, plastic princess all the time.”

Yifan gathers her into a tighter embrace and inhales the minty scent wafting from her gorgeous, scarlet hair. “I find you more beautiful in your ripped jeans and messy blonde hair. You just looked  _pretty_  is all. Was wondering where you came from, dressed like that.”

“I came from hell, to simplify.” Junmyeon’s tone is sarcastic more than anything. “I like this color better than blonde though, don’t you think so?”

“You can wear it in something crazy like, I don’t know, bright blue and I’d still love it. You’re beautiful, have I told you that?”

“You surprise me by being incredibly poetic at dawn and at the same time, smooth as hell when your morning blindness hinders you from seeing anything. Are you falling for me, Yifan? If that’s it, you’re in for a whole fucking disaster.” Junmyeon laughs, like this situation is entirely a joke. Yifan is convinced it is not. His heartrate picks up as mulls over his own careless confession coupled with this undeniable attraction and then it hits him.

“What if I am?”

The statement effectively quietens them both. Time seemed to have frozen, constricting the two in borderline uncomfortable silence. Yifan wishes that he hadn’t broken the previous morning calm but at the same time, he does not regret voicing out the huge possibility that he could fall in love with her. After all, he would not have allowed her in his bed, would not have held her, and kissed her if he did not have the slightest feelings for her.

It’s so easy. Falling in love with Junmyeon is so easy, Yifan is willing to risk the heartache.

Junmyeon breaks the silence when she moves away from him. Yifan feels acutely bereft of the heat they shared. He fights the urge to pull her back.

“Please don’t.” Junmyeon says, “I don’t want to be your mistake.”

Those words are frankly insulting. But Yifan does not express his thoughts because he is also aware of just how scary all these feelings could be.

After all, it’s not always  _pretty_.

He understands that Junmyeon might not be willing to risk the heartache, but that’s okay. Yifan will show her then, simple as the way she tells him to  _live a little._

“Well then,” Yifan snatches his glasses from the night stand and slides the frame up his nose bridge. “How about breakfast? Let’s hope we don’t get another show from Jongdae and Minseok today though.”

~*~

They’re in the kitchen with plates of half-eaten kimchi rice and the recycled beef stir fry from last night.

Junmyeon is seated across him before the breakfast counter, idly stirring her black coffee as she scribbles on Jongdae’s errant engineering worktext which had been lying on the table. She probably had completed the man’s assignment, said assignment he'd procrastinated the whole weekend.

 There is a frown marring her face and Yifan wonders if his statement had affected her all over mood but she seemed to radiate a kind of distress that could not really be caused by a simple, offhanded comment.

“Care to share what’s making you frown so deeply?”

Yifan pours himself a second cup of coffee with two heaps of sugar – he liked it sweet.

Junmyeon drops the pencil she’d been holding and sighs, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Junmyeon stares at him. “Hypothetically, will you forgive a person for lying even if that person had good intentions and they only lied because they wanted what’s good for you?”

Yifan shakes his head. “I can forgive but if that person really wanted what’s good for me, they wouldn’t lie.”

“Oh.”

“Why the question?”

Junmyeon smiles at him, saccharine. “It’s nothing.”

They finish breakfast in relative peace but Yifan could not quite dispel the uncomfortable bubble. They spend breakfast in stagnant silence until Junmyeon's spare clothes, arrived.

 

Later, Yifan notices her necklace on his nightstand and texts her about it.

_“I’ll come get it some other time. Also, thanks, I really owe you for last night.”_

Yifan does not reply. Junmyeon’s necklace is still glittering even in dim lighting and Yifan does not quite understand why Junmyeon didn’t seem to care much about such expensive looking rocks.

~*~

For some reason, Junmyeon successfully evades Yifan for two weeks since the incident. She still visits the hospice, Yixing constantly updates him about the color of Junmyeon’s dress and how she smiled at senile, Mr. Park when she’d come across him in the hallway.

Junmyeon avoids Thursdays and Wednesdays – days when Yifan is in the hospice himself – and the avoidance upsets Yifan to some vague extent. He misses her, if he is being honest with himself. They have been great friends in the last few months and he thinks he should just get over it and talk to her.

He finally finds an excuse for the much needed talk after he saw a broadsheet announcement smack dab behind the reception desk in the allied health building.

It called for volunteers of all types to some obscure island…in the Philippines?

Yifan squints at the announcement, notes the pineapple field on its background, and makes his decision. He remembers Junmyeon’s affinity for pineapples as he peruses a quick search.

Apparently,  _Bukidnon_  in the southernmost part of the south-east Asian country, is a place full of goddamned pineapples.

Junmyeon is not going to say no.

~*~

Yifan manages to see Junmyeon again, two weeks later, after successfully coercing her to come with him to volunteer. He had regaled her with endless tales that mostly centered on vast pineapple plantations and Junmyeon did not have the heart to say no (especially after Yifan had proudly brandished facts lifted from respectable tourism websites).

There are probably under a hundred volunteers – most of SNU’s faculty, general physicians, staff, medical students, along with non-allied health volunteers – cramped in the earliest flight which is to land in  _Davao,_ in the Philippines, around nine in the morning. It’s currently two A.M or as what Junmyeon aptly called, ‘the fucking ass crack of dawn’

The woman has been massaging her temples since entering the plane, muttering something about her hate of flying contraptions and her brewing headache.

“Are you okay?”

Junmyeon shakes her head. “I’m slightly claustrophobic. This is quite torture, honestly. I hope you’re not lying about the pineapples. I’m really going to hate you if you lied.”

“What’s with you and pineapples?” Yifan chuckles as he pours pineapple flavored candies on her open palms.

“Full offense taken.” Junmyeon pops a candy into her mouth and glares at him, “Pineapples are the best things to have ever happened in this godforsaken planet.”

“Alright, alright. Pineapples it is then.”

 

The flight is turbulent. Yifan does not really care but Junmyeon seemed to be more and more distressed – eyes screwed shut and fingers curled tightly under her seat – and it is making Yifan worry. He raises the dividing armrest between them and loosens Junmyeon’s seatbelt.

“Junmyeon, come here.” He tells her, snaking his arm behind her and drawing small circles on top of her shoulder. “Lean against me, and try to get some sleep.”

Junmyeon jerkily follows his advice. She presses her face against his neck and inhales. Yifan pulls her closer by throwing a loose arm around her waist. He regrets subjecting Junmyeon to this situation to appease his selfish whims to be near her. If he had known that Junmyeon is averse to the general idea of plane rides, he wouldn’t have bribed her to come with him for some goddamned pineapples.

He continues his ministrations and even pulls out the elastic that held Junmyeon’s hair together. He allows the waves of her bright red hair to fall unto his palms and surprisingly, Junmyeon manages to rest. For the rest of the flight, she dozes off against Yifan’s chest as Yifan cards his fingers through her silky hair.

Of note, is the fact that Yifan managed to control his wavering emotions.

It’s so easy to fall in love with her, because she makes it easy.

~*~

The team finally lands in Davao International Airport after roughly nine hours of shaky, panic inducing flight.

Junmyeon lagged behind Yifan, complaining about her dizziness and the desire to empty the contents of her stomach.

Yifan comforts her with soothing backrubs, green tea and a pack of dried pineapples he bought in the airport. Junmyeon gets the treat, sighing happily.

“You know, our pineapples mostly come from this country.” Junmyeon tells him. “I can’t elaborate just how excited I am to see tons and tons of pineapples. Do you think I can airlift a few pounds for myself to take back home?”

Yifan laughs. “I don’t think that’s possible, Myeon.” She pouts at him, “Maybe we can stash our suitcases with these things though. I like it.”

“I told you, pineapples are nice.”

“I know, I know. This fascination of yours, is amusing, quite frankly.”

Junmyeon laughs.

Her airsickness finally subsides just in time when Yifan’s supervisor informs them that the buses have arrived. It’s another five-hour drive before they reach  _Bukidnon_  from  _Davao._

They’ll be staying for a week in the province, perusing the hospitality of strangers in the locale they’ll be temporarily serving.

“Wow, are we going towards the edge of the world. Five hours, damn.”

“Will you be okay?”

“So long as it's not another plane ride, I’m good.”

 

The trip is surprisingly comfortable. Yifan learns that provinces aren’t connected by railways and the easiest and safest way to get from point a to point b, is by land. Thankfully, the southernmost part of the country is huge and mostly landlocked.

A national highway snakes across the province, to accommodate travelers. It’s a long road, flanked by valleys of tall trees. Yifan is surprised by the lack of traffic and the amount of greenery he sees. So much green. Forests seem lush, vibrant and alive – unlike in other parts of the world where it seemed to be an obsolete concept.  

Yifan liked the green and Junmyeon…well Junmyeon is busy marveling through acres and acres of alternating sugarcane, banana and pineapple plantations that stretched as far as the eye can see.

“Yifan!” Junmyeon grabs his shoulder and points out the window, gesturing fervently. She makes excited noises that effectively pull grumbles from the rest of the travel-wearied volunteers. Junmyeon does not care, and Yifan is highly amused.

 “Pineapples,  _fuck_ , there’s so much pineapples. Holy shit, is this real?!”

“I think so.” Yifan eyes the vast fields, “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to enter these plantations though. They’re owned by large industrial corporations. Capitalism at its finest.”

“Corporations should be banned in this planet entirely. They’re like leeches sucking the blood out of small business. It’s why a lot of countries remain poor since these fucking capitalists monopolize their economies.”

“Like the Kim Industries.” Yifan scoffs. He remembers the somber expressions of the hospice directors as they explained the current situation with the conglomerate. Everything worked in the Kims’ favor and nothing is to be gained from the sellout at all – money isn’t even the center of the discussion, it’s about the Kim’s refusal to back off. They’re like leeches, truly.

At the sudden segue, Junmyeon yet again, uncharacteristically turns mute. She stares at Yifan with this horrified look in her eyes before it completely neutralizes as her expression shutters. It was merely a glimpse and yet Yifan had caught sight of it.

“Tell me,” he prompts her, “what do you think of the Kims?”

Junmyeon’s chuckle grates at Yifan’s ears. She sounds spiteful when she spits, “They’re monsters. Frankly, I’m beginning to hate them.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons, too many to elaborate.”

Junmyeon looks out the window, her excited grins do not return for the rest of the ride. Yifan’s mind is busy conjuring the reasons Junmyeon refused to divulge. 

Yifan doesn’t really hate the Kims – the corporation employs and feeds so many people across Asia, he can’t completely abhor them – but their greed is becoming far too much to handle. This greed really puts a damper on his general existence.

Maybe Junmyeon feels the same.

~*~

The village comprises of quaint houses bordering a magnificent landscape. The locals are such warm, friendly creatures, with their simple welcome banners; hot, organic coffee, and piles of weird rice delicacies and boiled bananas Junmyeon have been munching on since a few minutes ago. She looks like an overeager bunny and Yifan is hopelessly endeared. He traces a long finger across her face and pokes at the softness of her cheek. “You’re so unbelievably cute.”

Junmyeon smiles at him and he’s just hopeless in general.

He only quits staring at Junmyeon when the village chief, who speaks chopped English, approaches them. Yifan does not trust himself at first but thankfully, his english comes out normally , his tongue carving upon the syllables with relative ease. Junmyeon seemed surprised when he tells her he speaks four languages, fluently.

“I’m not even gonna ask how huge of a polyglot you are.” Yifan jokes, switching to his ethnic Mandarin. 

“I speak fourteen, fluently.” Junmyeon answers in the same language, without the slightest hint of accent. “Cantonese included.”

“You’re scary.” Yifan answers.

She chuckles, “My brain’s abnormal. I learned Dutch because I wanted to read ‘The Little Prince’ in Dutch. I’ve never even had the opportunity to use it. I’ve been to Belgium once, though. I spoke English.”

“I think that’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“You flatter me too much.”

The man shrugs, “Is it working?”

Junmyeon’s about to answer when Yifan’s superintendent, a smiley general physician, approaches him with papers and a pair of yellow shirts.

“Here,” she says. “Change into this. The staff made our patients stay inside the hall, we start rounds in an hour. You should get ready Dr. Wu. You may have one assistant.” She glances at Junmyeon, “I think this lovely girl shall do.”

Junmyeon smiles. “Alright. Shall I call myself, nurse Kim?” She’s waggling her eyebrows at him, Yifan laughs. “No. You can’t call yourself a nurse. The nurses will give you the stink eye.”

~*~

As far as general medical missions go, Yifan’s patients are all children and aging people plagued by routine sickness and the worst cases of upper respiratory tract infections – the common cold. He glances at Junmyeon from time to time, eyebrows scrunched as she tries to decipher his ugly handwriting.

“It’s just paracetamol, Jun.” Yifan says, tucking an errant strand of red hair behind her ear.

“I just wanna make sure. Your handwriting is inexplicably horrible.”

“I’m a doctor to be, having an ugly handwriting is a prerogative.”

“I thought that was a legend.”

“Nope. You’re doing a good job as a nurse stand-in, by the way.”

Junmyeon beams at him. “I try.”

“Doc Wu.”

Yifan turns to his colleague whose brows are scrunched as she shows him a chart. “Three days fluctuating fever, vomiting, and complains about muscle pain.” The other doctor hands him a chart, “and the blood work is insane. PLT too low for a good prognosis. I’m not familiar with this though. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it on my rounds.”

The medical student surveys the patient. It’s a child, probably ten, who’s shivering in a thin jacket. The little girl smiles at Yifan as he assesses the discreet rashes on her exposed neck.

“Keyword: virology.” Yifan tells the other medical student. “It’s the Dengue virus.”

“How’d you know? Are you familiar with the case?”

“Nope. But this part of the continent is a hotspot for mosquito related infections, and those rashes are practically alarm bells. We’ll have to call Doc Park for the official diagnosis. Patient needs to be hospitalized ASAP.”

Yifan beckons for a nurse. “We need to hook her up. I’ll get an ambulance.”

The superintendent merely gives the patient a once over before confirming Yifan’s diagnosis. Half an hour later, he’s inside an ambulance with Junmyeon holding the patient’s mother who’d started crying minutes ago.

Junmyeon is not allowed in the ambulance in the first place but Yifan had insisted her presence – breaching protocol. He does not care.

She surprises him yet again for her empathy is almost boundless. She hushes the panicking parent with comforting touches, says “it’s going to be alright, she’s going to be okay.”

Yifan prays to god that she ceases being perfection personified or he’s not going to pull through with his pseudo promise of not falling in love with her.

She’s so fucking perfect and Yifan is absolutely gone.

~*~

“Here’s coffee.”

Junmyeon sits beside him outside the ER as the patient is hooked into an IV with local physicians attending over her.

“Thank you.” Yifan says, smiling. He feels tired all of a sudden, and not because of the surprising trip to the ER, but over his feelings clamoring up his throat. It’s going to choke him.

“I haven’t actually seen Doc Wu in action until now.” Junmyeon leans against him and takes his hand. She has such dainty fingers and  they slot nicely against his own. “You’re going to be a great doctor.”

“You’re going to inflate my ego, thanks though.” Yifan chuckles.

“I just want you to know.”

“You can tell me that when I graduate in a year and half.”

“I think I wouldn’t be here to tell you that.”

She stands up before he can question the vague statement. “Let’s go back to the village. They need their doctor back.”

 

~*~

The village is beautiful but Yifan thinks that it’s just Junmyeon’s general effect on the way he sees things. 

 

Currently, they’re in some sort of local festivity.

There’s more weird food and weird drinks. The whole staff are decked in odd looking traditional garb. Junmyeon is wearing an elaborate headdress and she’s smiling happily amid the local children dancing around her.

Yifan snaps more pictures, smiling passively at each one. Minseok would have told him he looked like a lovestruck fool as he browsed through his photos. He’s supposed to take pictures for further documentation but his camera is just full of Junmyeon.

He is so caught up in it that he does not notice when said subject of his pictures approach him with the biggest grin on her face. “Yifan come on. It’s fun!”

Against his will, Junmyeon is dragging him to dance again. He probably looks like an idiot but Junmyeon’s laughter is a big distracting force.

Junmyeon makes him do things he doesn’t dare think about and oddly enough, he is alright with all this craziness. If he gets to hear her laughing in the background, he’d be there, always.

The gravity of the realization hits him full force.

And maybe, maybe he’s fallen in love with her.

 

“They say there’s a spring near the mountains. Should we go?”

“Isn’t that a bit too dangerous for us?”

“Oh, come on, Fan. The chief is very willing to escort us. He told me he’d let his oldest children tag along. They’re familiar with the place.”

Yifan just shrugs and before he knows it, they’re being carted on the back of a dilapidated pickup truck. Yifan wonders if he’s going to contract an infection just by going near it but Junmyeon didn’t even bat an eyelash as she scrambled on top without preamble. 

Her red hair blows to a disarray under the midday sun.

Beautiful.

 

 

The spring is located at the foot of the mountains. The water is clean and cold as ice. Tall trees provide a modicum of privacy.

Yifan turns to Junmyeon – who is currently stripping off her shirt and jeans. Yifan chokes as planes of pale flesh are displayed right before his eyes. He won’t be forgetting those black undergarments even when Junmyeon had dived into the water with an excited shout.

She is going to send him into cardiac arrest.

“It’s cold!” as she emerges from the water, red hair all wet.

“No one told you to jump right in.” Yifan chuckles, as he puts his camera aside and discards his t-shirt and his jeans. He joins Junmyeon in the water, shivering as the water meets his skin. “We’ve lived in a place where it snows, so how the hell can we not tolerate this cold.”

“I happen to like my hot showers, thank you very much.”

“Point taken.” 

Junmyeon splashes water onto his face, laughing with mirth.

“Oh, it’s on.”

In the end, Junmyeon’s playful laughter rings into his ear. The people who’ve escorted them to the spring have long disappeared. No one notices.

 

When they emerge, Yifan’s hands are frigid. He puts on his shirt. Junmyeon apparently brought spare towels but no spare clothes. So, they are left with no choice but to sit on the ground as their wet undergarments dried on their flesh.

Yifan’s seeing too much skin for his own good. Junmyeon has no qualms whatsoever about prancing in her underwear right in front of him.

“Jesus,” He wraps her in a towel and cages her in his arms. “Stop moving around. You’re driving me crazy.”

Junmyeon looks far too innocent as she implores at him with those tantalizingly soft, hazel irises. Yifan’s going to kiss her.

“Is there something wrong?”

Yifan sighs then aggressively wraps the towel around her body until only her head is visible. “There, now you’re like a drenched bunny. Behave.”

Junmyeon  _fucking_ pouts at him. Yifan is done. He hugs her tighter, and banishes all thoughts of her pale skin away from his head before they take roots into his fantasies.

He doesn’t want that to happen, but she’s testing his patience.

 

 

Later, after their undergarments are finally dry, they text the village chief that they'd be fine wandering around by themselves.

And now they’re lost.

“This isn’t working.” Junmyeon complains. They’re supposed to call someone from the village but the service is nonexistent.

 “So, we’re stuck here?”

Yifan shrugs. “Let’s just go for a walk. We stop at the next house we see and hope that kind strangers are willing to lend us their floor or something.”

“What if we get kidnapped, or I don’t know. It’s eerie.”

“I heard some nasty legends.” Yifan whispers, “They talk about phantoms that lurk in these plantations. The story goes on to say that the blood of hapless victims makes these pineapples taste all the sweeter.”

Junmyeon whacks him. “What the fuck, Fan?  You’re freaking me out.”

Yifan’s laugh echoes in the distance. “Come on, let’s just take a walk. I want an excuse to hold your hand.”

The moon shines above them, blanketing the ground in a dull light. It’s cold, the breeze bites a bit harsher but Yifan thinks the situation is perfect. Junmyeon’s slender fingers are nice, and they fit nicely against his own.

“This is the most unusual date I’ve been on.”

“This isn’t even a date.”

“Oh, it’s not?”

“Do you want to date?”

Junmyeon does not answer for the longest time, merely squeezes Yifan’s fingers.

“Let’s go on a proper one when we’re back in Seoul. We’d do all those cliché things I see on dramas. I’ve always wondered what it’s gonna be like.”

Junmyeon scoffs, “You’re hopeless. I don’t care though, this is a date, a weird, memorable date.”

“Whatever you want, Jun. Whatever you want.”

 

And they talk, for hours. Conversations hushed in respect to whatever beings that seemed to lurk in the steadily darkening night. For reasons he can’t put his finger on, Yifan is perfectly at ease. As if it’s completely normal to be lost in an unfamiliar place, with no other human being but Junmyeon by his side. It’s comforting to be suspended in this situation with her. It’s almost like the place is compelling the two to spill their secrets because they know that no one is listening.

Junmyeon talks, tells him about her childhood. She calls it nonexistent for she’d started her education at an early age. She didn’t get to be a child for she had been forced to grow up all too soon.

“I don’t remember my parents much. They sent me to this boarding school in the UK when I was, like, nine. They never really visited. The only indication that they still remembered me were the lavish presents I received on my birthday, on holidays. Stuff like that. I moved to America at sixteen. I stayed there for a couple of years before relocating back here.”

In return he finally tells him about his past. That he never really had a father, only a mother who died a couple of years back. It still stings, when he recalls the memories and he finds himself unable to tell Junmyeon the whole thing, it’s like clawing his heart out. He is still not ready to do that.

He tells him of his experiences in medical school, instead. He tells her that he prefers palliative care because it taught him empathy.

“I plan to further my studies in Neuroscience after I graduate. My professors tell me it’s perfect because I operated like I wasn’t a human being. That’s why I’m in palliative care. I connect with my humanity when I get to interact with people who’re dying. It’s a bit sick if I put it that way, but it’s been helping me a lot.”

“You’re going to be great.”

“I hope so.”

“What about you, what do you want to be after university. When reality calls.”

“I want to make things right, once and for all.”

Maybe it’s just Junmyeon and her penchant for cryptic words so Yifan does not question her anymore. Her vagueness is part of her charm.

In time, they finally reach a well-lighted, two-story house. Yifan knocks and it’s not long before a boy opens the door for him. He smiles.

The boy’s mother calls from somewhere inside the house, Yifan did not understand a word she said.

“Uhm, Hi?”

The boy stares at them curiously. A middle-aged woman approaches the door and as soon as she notices the yellow shirts they are wearing, she immediately lets them in.

Yifan explains their situation and the lady of the house didn’t think twice about letting them use the spare bedroom.

 

They’re having a conversation as dinner is served. It’s some meat dish and rice and slices of pineapples.

The woman speaks decent English. She tells them that her husband is working in the Middle East and her oldest daughter is a piano teacher in the city.

“Oh, so the piano in the living room, it’s hers?”

“Yes.” Their host stands up, “Do you play?”

“Yifan is fantastic.” Junmyeon immediately quips, just after she devours half of the served pineapples. “He plays Stravinsky. Play for us, Fan!”

So, Yifan now finds himself in front of a dusty Yamaha.  The instrument needs tuning but it would do. He feels nervous as he realizes that this is the first time he’s going to play in front of people.

Junmyeon’s staring at him expectantly so he closes his eyes and caresses the keys into the familiar tune of Satie’s first Gymnopedie.

It’s been so long since he’s played Satie and the sheet music doesn’t come to him as easily as ‘Firebird’, or ‘Rite of Spring’. But for the first time in a long while, Yifan lets go.

When he finishes,the woman is sniffling and Junmyeon is practically beaming at him.

“Satie. It’s what my daughter used to play for me. I miss her.”

Yifan vacates the piano seat, his fingers are shaking. “I’m sure your daughter misses you too. Are you alright?”

 “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m a dramatic old woman. Anyway, you two should rest, there’s a bathroom and some spare clothes in the closet.upstairs."

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome. I should be the one thanking you all for coming here. We appreciate it a lot. By the way, if you want a tour to the pineapple plantations, I can take you tomorrow.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.”

“Oh god thank you, that would be a dream come true. Thank you!”

“It’s the least I can do, please get some rest.”

 

 

Junmyeon is smiling so widely. Yifan can’t help but be happy for she is happy.

“So, pineapples, huh?”

Yifan is lying on the cold wooden floor, refusing to join Junmyeon on the tiny double bed.

“Yes, but will you please climb over here. I don’t really think you should be sleeping on the floor.”

“Let’s just sleep, Junmyeon.”

“But Yifan.”

Yifan hushes her and just when he thinks Junmyeon is already asleep, she surprises him by stepping off the bed and clambering over his personal space without preamble. She’s wearing the thinnest shirt and the shortest pair of shorts – Yifan’s brain might short circuit.

“Come on Yifan, I don’t want you sleeping on the floor. It makes me feel bad.”

The man sighs and slightly pushes Junmyeon’s body away from him in a modicum of self-preservation. “Fine, fine. Just I need to - “ breathe “stand up.”

The bed is tiny. Their skin is touching. Yifan’s nerves are fraying.

The last time they shared a bed had been alright, because Junmyeon had been distressed and Yifan was very willing to distract her. He has no excuse this time, whatsoever, and there’s this huge possibility that he wouldn’t be able to control himself (after all the unnecessary wave of alluring distractions Junmyeon had subjected him into) he thinks he is going to snap.

Junmyeon throws an arm around his torso, asks, “Is this okay?”

Yifan allows himself a small moment of quiet. He shifts and in the dark, stares at Junmyeon. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re driving me crazy.” It’s a whisper against Junmyeon’s ear as Yifan pulls her towards him – her back to his front. Their legs tangle, and his lips press against the skin of Junmyeon’s neck.

“Is that a bad thing?” Junmyeon asks after so long. She relaxes against Yifan’s hold, allowing his hands to wander onto the soft skin on her thigh – same thigh that is casually wedged in between his own.

“No.” Yifan leaves a long kiss on her neck, drawing out a short moan from the back of Junmyeon’s throat. “Tell me to stop.”

Yifan waits and he hears his own blood rushing. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, just breathes in a way as if she’s panting. Yifan’s hands travel under her shirt, touching heated skin. Junmyeon keens; he’s going to combust.

“Please?” Her tone is halfway between a demand and a plea. Yifan likes this side of her.

“Please what?”

“Do something,”

There’s a voice at the back of Yifan’s mind that screams that they should not do this.

Contrary to popular belief, Yifan believes in commitment and he’s not the biggest fan of casual flings

But there’s just something about Junmyeon that’s too irresistible. Yifan is helpless.

“We can’t do this.” Yifan manages to say, after he kisses a mark on Junmyeon's jugular. "We should stop."

“Fuck, Yifan, I don’t want you to stop.”

Yifan’s head clears. “We can’t, Junmyeon.” He’s breathless, as if he’d run an actual marathon. Junmyeon makes an annoyed sound and he merely chuckles. “Before we do anything that doesn’t require clothes, let me take you out. Let’s go on those cliché dates you hate.”

“Wow, thanks for all the unnecessary sexual tension.” Junmyeon deadpans.

Yifan presses a short, chaste kiss on her cheek. “I haven’t been laid in god knows how long, you don’t know what sexual tension is.” Yifan merely spoons her, ignoring his arousal. “Good things come to those who wait, Jun.”

“You better take me on the best goddamn dates.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go to sleep.”

Miraculously, Yifan manages to sleep, Junmyeon safely caged in his arms.

He can get used to this.

 

~*~

Junmyeon is beaming, screaming at the top of her lungs as she cartwheels over her precious pineapples. “I can’t believe this is actually happening to me!” There’s a streak of dirt on Junmyeon’s cheek but her grin is wide, happy and truly infectious. The smile on her face radiated her glee in a way that seemed to rival the sun itself.

“Junmyeon, it’s just pineapples.”

“Yes, and I love pineapples!”

They’re allowed a day off after two continuous days of serving the locale. Wandering across vast acres of pineapples recharged the finance major’s happiness and even if Yifan truly despises being on the backseat of a motorcycle when Junmyeon’s driving, he could not help but entertain her. He’s also carrying a utility knife for the sole purpose of cutting pineapples.

She reminds him of a bunny. Adorable.

 

 

“I keep telling you to live a little and yet I’ve never really felt alive in such a long while. I was starting to forget what alive felt like, and I was reminded of it today. I want to thank you for that, for taking me here.”

They’re eating an early dinner; leaning against the motorcycle as they share prepared food,packed in plastic containers. It’s almost dark – the sky is a swirling mess of color, blazing into tangents of ochre and red before fading into the beginning of night. The wind blows harder, the air is crisp. Yifan inhales, lets the calm settle upon his weary bones.

“You don’t have to thank me. You don’t need to thank people for the happiness you deserve.”

“Am I happy?”

Yifan merely glances, before he wraps an arm around her waist to pull her close. “Are you happy, Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon looks at him, her expression is unreadable.

“Will it please you if I’d admit that you’re the only person to have asked me that? It’s been so long Fan, I don’t know what happiness is anymore.”

“It’s definitely a feeling.” Yifan answers, “Like when you’re surrounded with pineapples and your smile is brighter than the sun.”

With a shrug, she tells him. “Maybe this weird fruit reminds me of a time where I’d been genuinely happy. My memories are vague so I hold on to something that’s tangible. How about you, Fan. What makes you happy?”

Yifan smiles. He has so many answers to that question but recently it equated into something that had to do with Junmyeon. These days, everything seemed to revolve around her. Yifan is sure that his situation is not entirely a good thing.

 Junmyeon is averse to such fleeting emotions and Yifan has yet to figure out something that would validate his feelings. Because this,  _whatever it is,_ is not fleeting, it’s too all-encompassing to be fleeting.

“Yifan?”

“Hmm?”

Junmyeon’s stare has changed throughout the months that they’ve stuck to each other. When they first met, she was not as open. Her glances always had this guarded veneer; Yifan could never read her.

It’s different now. She looks at Yifan with the most carelessly open expressions and he could easily breeze through each smile, frown; every minute furrow of eyebrows, the pressing of lips – she’s easy to read now.

“What makes you happy?” she reiterates as a slice of pineapple disappears between her pink lips.

“You.” Yifan can’t help it. “You make me happy.”

Yifan had been expecting a lot of things, however, Junmyeon brazenly pulling him down to press a lingering kiss on the side of his mouth, is definitely not one of them.

“Let me breathe.”

Yifan did not waste the time on wondering whatever Junmyeon meant by that because the next second he’s kissing her again. She throws both arms around his neck as his, wrap around her torso. Yifan passively notes the way she fits right against him, bodies slotting perfectly. Yifan thinks he likes the taste of pineapple on Junmyeon’s lips.

“What do you mean?” Yifan asks as soon as they part. “Do I suffocate you?” And he’s asking this in a different context.

Junmyeon shakes her head and her embrace tightens. “It’s overwhelming.”

“Is this okay?”

“This is perfect.”

And for what seemed like forever, they stay suspended in that quiet limbo. Yifan is unafraid of taking another step into their ambiguous relationship but on the contrary, he can feel Junmyeon’s barely suppressed panic. She kissed him with finesse, but there’s a lick of uncertainty to it that Yifan could not miss.

She’s unsure but Yifan is willing to wait.

“Thank you.”

“For what.”

“For pineapples.”

Yifan chuckles.

“I’d give you pineapples always if it makes you happy.”

“It’s not just pineapples.”

“I know, Jun. I know.”

~*~

In Seoul, Nurse Zhang Yixing is surprised to see a familiar face on the national broadsheet.

**BUSINESS: Meet the Heiress to Asia’s most successful mixed industry conglomerate, Kim Junmyeon.**

“What?”

* * *

 


	6. therapeutic phlebotomy

 

Junmyeon applies a thin film of lipstick – nothing flashy like her usual bold scarlets or the occasional purple – just pink. She looks like her father’s secretaries and though those women sometimes made her laugh sardonically, she couldn't help but emulate the getup.

Today she is to face her father, beg him if he must, for Yifan.

She had been trying to avoid the medical student after the ultimatum her parents had shoved upon her like a lightning bolt. Junmyeon cannot do anything for the hospice but after the craziness that was that wonderful week in the Philippines, Junmyeon realized one thing: she has baited herself to her own emotions, and unfortunately, these emotions had won against her. It’s an epiphany somewhat, that she is irrevocably _infatuated_ with Wu Yifan. He is everything Junmyeon has ever wanted in a person.

And she is _fucking_ terrified. She is terrified of feelings she’s never been acquainted with. She is terrified of hurting Yifan, she is terrified of hurting herself.

And in the grand scheme of things, she is terrified of things not turning out as she hoped to be.  But her fate is inescapable, Junmyeon could almost taste the impending consequences of her carelessness. She only prays to god one thing, if he exists, that Yifan may understand her decisions, that Yifan may understand why she chose to lie to him.

Junmyeon assesses herself, grabs the keys to her barely used, silver Audi and proceeds to the Kim Industries’ headquarters.

~*~

Junmyeon’s hands are cold, and when she reaches up to knock against the double cherry oak doors leading to her father’s office, she finds herself hesitating. Calming herself, Junmyeon finally knocks but the door opens even before her knuckles make contact against the expensive wood.

“What do you need?”

CEO Kim is a powerful man and controlling more than half of the Asian economy has not given him much white hairs. Junmyeon smiles wryly at the thought. She sometimes wonders how her father can calmly sip his coffee and, sleep at night knowing that one flick of his fingers, or one of his signatures across a dotted line, can cause the Asian market to collapse.

“I want to talk to you about Green Meadows.”

The man hums, “Refresh my memory dear, I seem to have forgotten which that is.”

Junmyeon presses her lips into a thin line. This is the reality, her father being one of the richest man in the world thinks of himself entitled to act in such manner. The truth is, the rich does not care about the little things they trample upon in search for more money. They don’t care. And all those old people, those victims of childhood cancer residing in that hospice – they don’t seem like people to the likes of Junmyeon’s father. They’re just pawns needed to be eradicated in this chaotic chess board that is life.

All this may seem grand, coming from Kim Junmyeon herself. Kim Junmyeon who is the oldest daughter to the couple, who has grown up not needing to worry about money, from Kim Junmyeon who is one of two people who will eventually inherit the Kim Mixed Industries. It seems hypocritical and Junmyeon did not use to be so concerned about people, she’s been jaded for as long as she could remember.

But she’s here, willing to change, willing to be less heartless for Wu Yifan.

“It’s the hospice you intend to tear down to cover up the tax evasion cases.”

The man looks up from his laptop screen, a long finger unconsciously pushes up the frameless pair of glasses over his cynical eyes. “What would you have me do with it? I’ve already sent representatives. The deal has been closed.”

“I want you to pull back the deal.” Junmyeon says, straight to the point. There isn’t a need to dilly dally when it came to her old man. The patriarch wanted things done quick and efficient, and it should be on his favor. Junmyeon knew what questions would come next and even before she came here, she already had answers planned and familiar like the back of her hand.

“And why would you want me to do that?”

“Because you don’t gain anything by buying that hospice.” Junmyeon puts the folder she’d been holding, on her father’s mahogany desk, “I asked Kwon for your financial statements. Allow me to fix the tax evasion case. I only ask that you don’t do anything to the hospice.”

CEO Kim flips open the folder, the rustle of papers loud against the deafening silence of the soundproofed office. “Tell me honestly, what’s with you and that hospice?”

“It’s none of your business, father.”

The man cocks a brow, eyes boring right onto Junmyeon’s face. She feels her father’s gaze and fights the urge to look away.

“You don’t want to tell me about who this Wu Yifan is?”

The statement is a rug pulled from under Junmyeon’s feet. For a moment, the words leave her winded. Closing her eyes, she breathes a deep exhale calming the onslaught of pure fright that came with her father’s words.

_How did they know about Yifan?_

“I wasn’t particularly informed that my only daughter has taken a liking to medical student.” The man chuckles, “Good choice. I don’t really care Junmyeon, but if you’re trying to mix business affairs and your personal choices, I’d have to interfere. You’re obviously driven by your fondness to this man. You honestly think I wouldn't notice?”

Junmyeon inhales and her voice is shaky when she speaks. “It doesn’t matter. You know I can tweak the records, you know I’m perfectly capable of washing out that tax evasion case. My relationship with Yifan is none of your concern.”

“I don’t think so. If you’re so fond of this hospice, then you can acquire it from me after you finish the courses you abandoned in London. We’ll talk then.”

“But father –“

“We shall talk when you are ready to finish your business program. We shall talk if you’re willing to take on my position until Jongin graduates. Until then, my answer is no.”

 

~*~

Junmyeon does not remember the last time she’d been so drunk. The world spins in semi-circles, the floor of the club is morphing into a swirling vortex. Junmyeon laughs drunkenly, someone grabs her waist and she lets whoever it is drag her into the middle of the dance floor.

She’s just laughing, allowing this stranger to touch her. She doesn’t care.

Junmyeon wants to forget, _she has to forget._  

When she closes her eyes, it’s the streets of London she sees, the scenic towers of the University of Cambridge where she spent a good few months trying to learn the business concepts she hated.

She’s never going to see Yifan again and at the back of her intoxicated head, this is all her fault. She’d allowed herself to fall, she’d allowed herself to feel and now that her family is getting ready to destroy what’s left of her happiness, Junmyeon could not help but blame herself.

This would not have happened if she stepped away before it spiraled out of her control.

She’s never going to see Yifan again. He’ll eventually learn the truth and when it happens, things will naturally fall into place – Yifan will hate her.

Junmyeon chuckles, she doesn’t feel the wet trail of tears that leaks from her eyes. Her makeup’s ruined, she probably looks heinous.

She doesn’t care.

Later that evening, she’s leaning outside the club. Her vision’s swimming.

_Hello?_

Rustle of sheets followed by a switch being flipped open. Junmyeon listens.

 _Junmyeon?_ Yifan’s voice is deep, it sends a tingle down Junmyeon’s spine. It’s 2:41 in the morning, she wants to see him so badly. Just this once.

“Hi.”

_Where are you? Are you okay?_

It’s just so him to be that caring. They’re friends, somewhat, and Yifan shouldn’t have to concern himself so much over Junmyeon’s poor decisions.

But he’s Wu Yifan, and he’s a beautiful soul. And Junmyeon’s in love with that more than anything else.

“I’m okay. Can I see you?”

_Are you drunk? You don’t sound fine._

“I’m shitfaced. Is this a bad time? I’m sorry.”

_Don’t be. Where are you?_

“Remember that club you found me in? Déjà vu, isn’t it?”

Yifan laughs. _Stay there, I’ll come over. You should have told me if you wanted to go drinking._

“I’ll wait here.”

 

~*~

Junmyeon’s unfocused eyes do not register Yifan until the man is standing in front of her, hands stuffed inside his pockets and glasses perched on his face. He’s so handsome, Junmyeon thinks she’ll miss his face.

The thought makes her smile as she steps forward and leans against Yifan’s broad frame. The man throws his arms around her. His hold gives Junmyeon a strong sense of security, it feels like everything is alright in her crazy world.

“Damn, you are drunk.” Yifan jokes. Junmyeon feels his fingers on her hair. She hums. “I’m wasted and you smell so good.”

“Please don’t puke on me.”

“I’m not that drunk.” Junmyeon noses against 

his chest, arms around his torso, fingers tangle together. “Are you sleepy?  Let’s go for a drive. I want to eat spicy rice cakes and maybe a burger.”

“Those will give you the world’s worst hangover. You’ll want to crawl back into your mother’s womb come morning.”

Junmyeon shrugs, “Indulge me.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

~*~

It’s 3:30 in the morning. The wind blowing from the Han river considerably sobers Junmyeon. She feels lost again. Lost and so, so helpless.

Yifan sits beside her on the damp grass. He hands her a styrofoam plate full of hot rice cakes. The gesture puts a smile on Junmyeon’s face.

“You’ve been crying.” Yifan says, taking out a square patch of makeup removers. Junmyeon has no idea why he has them in the first place. “Your makeup’s all over the place.”

“What can I say, I’m an emotional drunk.”

Yifan gently swipes the remover from under her eyes, down her cheeks. The soft caress of his fingers is too much for Junmyeon. Her heartbeat is so, so calm as she realizes the gravity of what she feels for him.

Leaving him, it’s going to destroy her but when Yifan learns the truth, his hatred will destroy her too. It’s a difficult situation. No matter which angle she approaches it, nothing is going to work in her favor.

 _Too much_.

Junmyeon turns away, and inhales.

“I used to come here with my brother. I was eight, he was five.” Junmyeon tells him instead. “He used to dance and he practiced here. The old ladies liked him a lot because he was a cute little shit and they’d give him money. We’d buy bread with the money and feed the ducks.”

“Sounds like you had a fun early childhood.”

“Sometimes, I think my early memories didn’t happen at all.” Junmyeon stares at the calm rush of water.  “I think that I’ve spurned them out of nowhere because I was lonely when I started studying abroad. Have you ever felt that? Like things had happened, but they didn’t.”

“Like detachment.” Yifan hums, “When my mother died. It was like nothing ever existed after. It took a couple of years and I don’t really remember what happened at that time. It’s like I existed and I didn’t. Those years were strange.”

Junmyeon thoughtfully chews on a piece of rice cake, feeling her drunkenness ebb away only to be replaced by harrowing loneliness. “I don’t want you to feel detachment.”

Yifan does not answer for the longest time and when does, his words completely derail Junmyeon’s steadily darkening thoughts.

“That would be impossible unless you guarantee to always be with me.” He chuckles, “I am impossibly attached to you and I’m beginning to think it would be selfish of me to ask you to feel the same.”

“What do you mean?”

The man shrugs, “I’m sort of used to your presence now, I’m used to having this girl with bright hair and brilliant mind around and I’d feel very much detached the moment she decides to walk away because I don’t interest her anymore.”

It’s almost morning. The previously dark skies beginning to brighten, dragging embers of a glorious sunrise through the horizon. For now, people is scarce, except for one or two who are doing morning jogs along the perimeter of Han River. It’s so, so quiet but Junmyeon hears her own heartbeat, the organ seemed to break its way through her ribcage.

Yifan smiles, and spreads across the grass. He pulls Junmyeon towards him and allows her to lay half her body against his. Junmyeon’s ear is pressed against his chest and unlike the borderline panic he put her through by those seemingly harmless words, Yifan’s heartbeat is so, so calm.

Junmyeon closes her eyes, fingers curling around the cloth of Yifan’s shirt.

“You’ll do fine without me.” She says, “I’m not good for you.”

“And who is?” Yifan asks, long fingers once again tangling through her red hair. “We’re all bad for each other one way or another. But then again, what’s wrong with you could potentially be good for me. It’s a matter of perspective.”

Junmyeon sighs, and angles her head up to press a short, chaste kiss on his jaw – because the need to touch, to be closer, is overwhelming – and whispers, ambiguous and at the same time clear as a spring day, “Take me away.”

“I still owe you a date.” Yifan says, “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere – ” _but here_ “let’s just get lost.”

Yifan stares at her, gaze open and knowing. He nods when he smiles and somehow, for the first time in a really long while, Junmyeon feels at ease. She would have accompanied him to the ends of the earth if it meant she could escape what is inevitably inescapable.

But in this moment, she smiles and basks in the comfort that she is with him and everything is just _right._

~*~

 

A few days after, Junmyeon find herself in the hospice again, decked in a white dress that ended an inch above her knees and a haphazardly arranged crown made of pretty flowers on her head. Junmyeon stands beside an old woman, wrinkled and graying, but equally beautiful as she recites her vows once again.  

On the opposite side is Yifan, dressed in a white, long sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of well fitting, black slacks that accentuated his long legs. They are official witnesses to the long-standing romance of a couple who are determined to reaffirm the promises they’ve kept for more than sixty years.

Junmyeon thinks the ceremony is beautiful. This is what’s enviable about falling in love. To think about it, meeting someone who will love you at your best, who will love you at your worst, and who will stay with you through it all – it’s somehow, unimaginable and yet these old souls achieved just that, for sixty-three years and counting.

Sometimes, the universe just aligns for certain people. Nothing is easy in such an abstract idea as love but sometimes...sometimes it happens. 

Junmyeon is happy for them but at the same time she is so jaded by it all. The universe aligns for certain people but she’s Kim Junmyeon and she is definitely not _certain people._

When long fingers slot against her own, Junmyeon is derailed from her thoughts.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Yifan now stands beside her, squeezing her fingers as if he could sense her distress.

“You’re not supposed to be standing here.”

“I know, just wanted to be close. They’re gonna read their vows.”

Junmyeon listens with rapt attention. Nothing is incredibly poetic nor emotional about the words that slipped past the old couple’s lips but the sincerity of every word brought Junmyeon to tears.

She’s not particularly fond of wedding vows and other bold declarations. A promise doesn’t equate to anything when it gets broken. They’re like poetically phrased lies.

“I have loved you for sixty-three years and I will love you until death. May we never part whether in this life or the next.”

The old woman is in tears and Junmyeon cries with her.

Nothing in that promise seemed like a lie.

The officiant closes the ceremony after a small chaste kiss from the couple.

“You get so emotional easily.” Yifan tells he hands her a scarlet handkerchief. “what a crybaby.”

Junmyeon chuckles, “I’ve had enough of weddings but that was beautiful.”

“Makes you wish you have someone to spend the rest of your life with, huh?” Yifan says, “I share the same sentiment.”

“It seems impossible.”

“It’s possible. Have some faith in the universe.”

~*~

Everyone in the hospice is invited to the reception. Tents are set up on the front lawn and Junmyeon tries to ignore the looming headquarters of Kim Mixed Industries standing tall and mighty a few blocks away from _Green Meadows._

Junmyeon made a huge anonymous donation, just enough to throw the couple a hefty celebration. In retrospect, she realizes how convenient it is to have so much money to burn if it meant she could burn it on things that made her feel good about the millions on her immediate disposal. The smiling faces in her surrounding brings Junmyeon, joy. It’s a good feeling but like a whimsical fairytale, fleeting.

Sometime in the middle of the festivities, Yifan brings her to the middle of the yard. They dance amid the soft echoing of _‘can’t take my eyes off you’_ the recording obviously ancient. Junmyeon indulges him, laughing along as he sings the lyrics to her.

“Did I make you happy today?”

Junmyeon presses her face against his chest, arms thrown around his neck. “You did.”

“I hope I’ve made my intentions clear.” Yifan’s embrace tightens. “I didn’t want you to run away but I guess you now understand that I am in love with you.”

The words steal the very breath out of Junmyeon’s lungs. Her body grows rigid.

“What?”

Yifan cradles her face. She’s probably turned chalky in pure panic.

Yifan does not back down, instead he smiles, gentle and ever patient.

“I love you, Junmyeon.”

And Junmyeon wants to tell him the same, wants to kiss him senseless. _Yes, I love you too._

_“You can’t.”_

Junmyeon detaches himself from his hold, breath coming in short gasps as she heads for the exit. She needs air to ease the conflicting emotions swirling inside her like dust in her lungs. She is happy, the only man she has ever fallen for, feels the same but at the same time _this can’t be happening_.

Junmyeon would rather Yifan feel anything for her, but love. Then, it would’ve been easy to deal with his impending loathing when the truth is out.

Junmyeon’s mind – for all its brilliance – churns out unhelpful scenarios, each progressively worse from its predecessor.

“I’m noticing that you do that a lot.” Yifan’s tone is light and it belies nothing of what’s running in his mind. “Running away.”

“Yifan, I – “

“It’s okay, Junmyeon. I wasn’t expecting you to say anything.”

“But –“

When Yifan turns to face her, his smile is serene, like he’d been expecting this to happen.

“It’s the truth. I’m not forcing you to feel the same but at least give me a chance, give us a chance?”

Junmyeon wants to laugh or cry – whichever comes first – because this situation is entirely too complex for her to explain. How does she even begin to tell him that his affections will be easily reciprocated if it weren’t for the fact that she has too many extra baggage he wouldn’t necessarily appreciate? Junmyeon’s too much of a coward and she isn’t willing to fight for her happiness if it would compromise Yifan’s. Added to this general chaos is her parents. They could do whatever they wish to him now that they’ve already passed judgement. They will think that Yifan is nothing but a mere distraction, like a passing phase. And distraction isn’t good for Junmyeon, isn’t good for the business and their money.

_Now this is a messy situation._

A lot could happen. Junmyeon does not even want to think about all those things, it makes bile rise up her throat.

Maybe it’s better this way.

She inhales, and finally faces the man who holds the better part of her heart. “I want to tell you something, but not right now.”

Junmyeon wanted to confess everything, every morbid detail. But she holds back. Her confession will have to wait until the hospice is safe and away from her parents’ grasp. Maybe Yifan will understand then.

 She has little to hope for.

Yifan nods. “Okay, whatever you want Jun, whatever you want.”

Stepping forward she winds her arms around his torso. “I’m so sorry Fan. But I promise, I’ll tell you everything.” Once and for all, no more half-truths.

Little did Junmyeon know that this night would have been her last chance.

~*~

"I'll  return to London, and when I come back you can leave everything to me. I'll try to meet your expectations." 

The man's voice is flat when he says, "Good."

"I'm not done. Before everything else, I want the deal to the hospice pulled back."

"Consider it done, Junmyeon. I'm expecting you to leave in two weeks."

"Not until you pull back the deal."

"You'll go to London and I will pull the deal. "

"But -"

"You will return to London and then I will pull the deal. Do you understand?"

Junmyeon nods,  _good bye Yifan._

 


	7. partial derivatives

Everything that could have went wrong that day, didn’t just go wrong – everything practically went to hell.

Yifan sensed that _something_ was about to happen when he slept through his alarm clock set to wake him up at seven am, sharp.

He hadn’t slept a wink. Thoughts of Junmyeon had chased his sleep and plagued his dreams. To think about it, it had been the first time in roughly eight years that his insomnia had kicked in so hard. He’d been restless when exhaustion finally overwhelmed him.

He woke up late due to the blaring of his phone and with a groan he procures the device from the side table, the STAT message glaring at him from the idle lock screen.

“Damn.”

~*~

When he arrives in the hospital, all decked in light blue scrubs, the whole place timely erupts into a full-blown chaos. His superior hadn’t even bothered on giving him the lecture of his life. Yifan, as a rotation clerk and as a doctor in the lowest ranks of the hospital hierarchy, rightfully deserved it.

But the current mess in the ER had hindered the wizened Emergency Room chief from doing anything but give him a short glare.

“Get the nurses and move to the left ward. Everyone needs stitches.”

And stitches Yifan did, on seventeen wailing teenagers who’d apparently gotten into a minor accident. It’s barely twelve in the afternoon and Yifan is so bloody tired.

Overthinking is sucking the soul out of him.

“Are you okay, doctor?”

Yifan hums. Passively, he wonders if he had a faraway look on his face, he shouldn’t have allowed his patients to even get a glimpse of how thoroughly distraught he is.

Junmyeon really got him good. She wields such great power over him, to the littlest molecule that made him who he is. To be honest, he’s starting to become terrified, little tendrils of doubt clouding logic.

She left him hanging and this entire situation could lead into two things – one good, the other disastrous. Yifan prayed to whomever god out there, for it to be the former.

It had all been on a whim after all. Junmyeon had looked more than beautiful in a white dress with flowers strewn over her hair and she looked at him as if she loved him.  

Had he been seeing things? Had he been so desperate that he projected his own feelings onto someone who never felt the same?

 _This is overthinking._ Yifan would be a doctor and there’s no space for overthinking in his slate. He should congratulate Junmyeon for that, she’s the only person that can reduce him to this.

“Doctor?”

Yifan finishes the procedure, fingers deftly moving and movements conducted through muscle memory.

“Don’t worry about me, miss.” He says.

The patient looks at him in open wonder. “It’s gonna be _okay,_ doctor.”

There’s a smile on Yifan’s face when he nods.

 

~*~

Yifan wonders what ran on Junmyeon’s mind.

She’s overly quiet, and her smiles shuttered – honest but vague. He couldn’t help but think if something had shifted between them after he threw all his cards on the table.

The thing is, Yifan didn’t have time for more friends, he’s not aloof as what everyone thinks of him, he’s just busy. Yifan’s not an entirely social creature either, he has Jongdae and Minseok – though handful most of the time – and they’re enough.

And then came Junmyeon with her blonde hair and a persona shrouded with a thin veil of secrets.

Junmyeon couldn’t have thought that there’s not a single strand of attraction on his part, actions could have said more than what words can convey. Yifan has done so many things that’s not necessarily normal for him because he wanted to be closer to her – for friendship, for love? He hadn’t been sure but the longer they stuck together, it became clear that he wanted her for something that isn’t platonic. Yifan wanted Junmyeon for all her perfect flaws and gorgeous smiles, for the inherent kindness she hid with cynicism.

“Two weeks.”

They’re sitting on the quadrangle again, Yifan had been telling her about the disastrous day in the ER while she held his hand and traced mundane patterns all over his long fingers.

“I’ll tell you everything at the end of two weeks.”

“You make it sound like you’re going to disappear.”

Junmyeon’s laugh is broken, like it had been forcefully ripped away from her.

“Until then, will you act as if you love me?”

Yifan smiles, oblivious. “Do you want a test drive for a relationship?”

“No, I want to experience something I know I can never have.”

The man doesn’t reply, the statement had left an acrid taste in his mouth but he’s too in love with her to even disagree. 

Yifan would later realize that he’d been so wrong, that he shouldn’t have agreed to her, that he should have asked her there and then if she felt even a speck of the love that Yifan held until it had been borderline painful.

He would have saved himself from pain.

But in that moment, Yifan knew nothing and he’s willing to do anything for her, because he loves her.

 

For Junmyeon, what ensues, is an act and for Yifan, it’s a dream.

There isn’t a significant change to their relationship except Junmyeon touches him like she’s afraid he’ll run once the grip she has around him disappears. Yifan’s happy, though at the back of his mind he’s sure he’s projecting and consequently giving himself false reassurances.

 If Junmyeon wanted to be with him, she would have told him so but instead they’re doing this vague charade.

Yifan is a fool, and Junmyeon’s a coward.

One time, around six days into whatever it is that’s going on between them, Junmyeon knocks on his shared apartment and when Yifan opens the door she merely stares at him for two seconds before initiating a kiss that steals the very breath from Yifan’s lungs.

Prior to this, they had dinner – in some lavish restaurant. Yifan had worn a suit jacket and she had on a dress, a shade lighter than her hair. For once, Junmyeon acted like herself again. They talked about everything and laughed for the most mundane things.

They were like what they used to be.

Yifan had asked her to dance, because the restaurant played Sinatra. Junmyeon obliged, wound her arms around his neck as they slow danced to lyrics he didn’t process. They didn’t notice that couples had started to abandon the floor, they were in their personal bubble. Yifan didn’t think that it had been a charade.

 Junmyeon’s body slotted nicely against his own and he wondered if he could have Junmyeon this close until whenever.

“I love you, I really do.”

Junmyeon hadn’t ran. She pressed his face against his chest and murmured something he didn’t catch.

Yifan thought that this pretense would change her mind. But all good things eventually end. The affair is brief, like forever compressed in a couple of hours.

Yifan stopped his car in front of her apartment tower and before Junmyeon stepped out of the vehicle, Yifan kissed her – long, deep and desperate. _Please love me, is it too much to ask?_

And Junmyeon kissed back, equally desperate. Her fingers found purchase on his rather expensive dress shirt. Yifan didn’t want to let her go.

“Goodbye.”

 

 

 

In the present, Yifan kisses her back.

Lust, love and everything else in between heated lips, and hands roaming on top of skin previously untouched. It’s not long before Yifan presses his lips on the skin of Junmyeon’s pale neck.

“If I beg, will you?”

Yifan understands the words unsaid and he’s so far gone to utter a no. “You don’t have to.”

Clothes are strewn all over the place, bare skin against bare skin and lips on each other’s. Yifan wanted her and Junmyeon had allowed him to.

Junmyeon’s back hits the bed and Yifan crowds over, kneeling on the space between her parted thighs. He kisses like he’s worshipping her, and Yifan’s too far gone to even think about his actions.

She’s beautiful, even more so naked. Junmyeon’s gasping into the crook of his neck as they slowly undo.

“ _Please.”_

Yifan complies, actions a little erratic, Junmyeon brackets both legs around his torso and pulls him even closer. Yifan can’t breathe. He’s murmuring all his adoration in stuttered Mandarin and Junmyeon digs her nails on his back.

In between the haze brought about by nothing but lust, Junmyeon had looked at Yifan and the latter realized that he adores her far too much. He kisses her again, demanding and desperate, the sound of skin slapping against skin echo over the darkened room.

Junmyeon gasps into his mouth as her climax washes over them. Yifan grits his teeth, as she bites on his skin.

_“Oh god – fuck.”_

“ _Come.”_

And Yifan does. The feeling hits so hard he nearly whites out. Junmyeon’s shuddering in his arms and it doesn’t stop Yifan from holding her closer.

 _“_ I love you.” Yifan whispers, kissing her jaw. “I really do.”

 

 

Yifan’s room is shrouded in half darkness. He’s kissing the back of Junmyeon’s neck while his fingers trace patterns on the bare canvas that is her skin.

“Tell me something else about the hospice.” Junmyeon asks amid the darkness. Yifan nods, lips still brushing her skin.

“It’s where my mother had been before she died. She opted out of chemo after a cancer diagnosis. The people in that hospice gave her all the care she could have needed.”

“I’m sorry about your mom. Did you become a doctor for her?”

Yifan shakes his head. “I had dreams of being a pianist because of her. She was a musician, a cellist for a touring Chinese orchestra. I still wanted to play but I realized I could never do it with an audience that’s not her. I played for her. I couldn’t touch the piano after she passed away.”

“So, you studied medicine then.”

“I was idealistic. I had notions of wanting to save people because I don’t want them to end up like my mother. But I realized I couldn’t do that without understanding what it’s like to be human first, to feel pain, loss, love and death. After my mom died, it all felt like an unending cycle, I never properly grieved her. Medicine was a distraction, easy and everything because I have photographic memory.”

Junmyeon chuckles.

“But I never understood the essence of it before I volunteered for the same hospice where my mother died. It’s like a wakeup slap. Somehow, I started to understand that life’s so fragile, and there will be times that I wouldn’t save anyone, that people will die and there’s nothing I can do. The hospice taught me that it’s okay. It taught me that the life that’s been lived is as important as the body that dies and a person doesn’t necessarily cease to exist when his physically body decays, he will leave memories and other traces and those don’t easily disappear.”

“The hospice taught you that death is just a part of life.”

“No, it taught me that my mother didn’t abandon me.”

Yifan thinks about the words and chuckles, “I didn’t grieve because I was angry. She was my only family and when she passed, I was mad. Why did she have to get sick, why did she have to die, why me? why us? I was so fucking angry at everyone, I hated the whole damn world. But you know, being around people who were dying taught me that I wasn’t the only one abandoned, and I shouldn’t be selfish because death and loss happen to everyone.”

Junmyeon partially rises, hovering above him, her red hair undrapes from her shoulder so Yifan reaches and tucks some of the strands to the back of her ear. She stares at him before leaning down to kiss him softly. Yifan holds her close and she sighs into his mouth.

“Your mother must have loved you.”

“She did.”

“You’re lucky. Some parents exist to bear their children and leave them to self-destruct. I’m happy your mother had you so that years later you can be with me.”

“I’m simply happy that you’re here with me.”

“Me too Fan. I badly want this to be forever but –“

Yifan grits his teeth, “But you won’t?”

“I can’t.” Junmyeon says, her voice breaks. “But I’ll do everything so that you’re happy. I promise you, Fan. You’ll be happy without me.”  

_You’re selfish then. Who are you to dictate my happiness and how can you say that I’ll be happy without you when you’re all that’s making me happy. You’re all that’s worth waking up to in the morning?_

_Why can’t you stop making me believe that you’ll love me when it’s clear that you don’t and you never will?_

Yifan wants to argue so badly but he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. Junmyeon’s body is warm against his own, and she smells like mint, spice and sex.

It’s 4 in the morning and she holds him sweetly while she gradually breaks his heart.

~*~

It’s been fourteen days, exactly two weeks. And in between dates, kisses and sex the last few days had been perfect, a charade so believable Yifan almost deluded himself that she loved him.

_Meet me in the music hall._

It’s where everything began. Yifan first noticed that Junmyeon looked beautiful and intimidating, where Junmyeon told him to _live a little,_ where Junmyeon finally ends everything.

It’s in the music hall where Yifan fell and it’s in the music hall where Junmyeon will leave him in pieces. He can feel it.

 

~*~

 

Surprisingly, Yifan learns the truth in the most anti-climactic way.

He’s about to do his rotation in Internal Medicine, when he notices Junmyeon’s face smack dab in the middle of a broadsheet newspaper, a patient is reading in the lobby.

The title says, **BUSINESS: Meet the Heiress to Asia’s most successful mixed industry conglomerate, Kim Junmyeon.**

The newspaper isn’t the current issue and when the patient finally puts it down, Yifan politely asks for it. The old man only nods and with shaking fingers Yifan rereads the title and stares at Junmyeon’s pretty face on the cover. Her hair is red and she’s wearing the same glittering necklace Yifan still has hidden inside his nightstand.

**_The businesswoman is the eldest child of KMI’s CEO, Kim Jihoon and international socialite, Lee Miran._ **

Yifan’s eyes the paper, disbelief coursing through his veins more than anything.

**_With a genius level intellect, Kim Junmyeon has been part of MENSA since she was 12. She was educated in London and consequently moved to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, acquiring her electrical engineering degree at age 17 and engineering phD at age 19. Kim Junmyeon, now twenty-three, studies finance in Seoul National University._ **

Well damn.

The article goes on to list Junmyeon’s properties from endless cars to lavish estates in every big city across the world.

**_Together with her younger brother, Kim Jongin, the siblings are the biggest shareholders of Kim Mixed Industries. With a personal net worth of $12B, Kim Junmyeon is the youngest billionaire in South Korea and third in Asia._ **

Without surprise, the first thing that pops into Yifan’s mind after reading the article is that: _goddamn Junmyeon is loaded._

No wonder she didn’t seem to think that a Harry Winston necklace (this, Yifan realizes days after Junmyeon had disposed of it in his care) holds much value. Yifan blanks out. He’s not angry that Junmyeon withheld the truth from him. She has the right to keep some things about her life, as private as possible. Yifan would never begrudge her for that.

But what about the hospice and it’s connection to _her_ conglomerate. Junmyeon’s family wanted to buy the humble hospice and this fact begs the question if Junmyeon had any say in the dealings.

Was it all a sham then? Did she wanted his friendship to let her family acquire the hospice faster?

No. It didn’t look like that. The Kims are far too powerful and they surely don’t need to send their heiress for a deal to acquire some measly building. The Kims practically control the country’s economy, and the latter willingly bends to its whims.

Not to mention Junmyeon’s animosity with her immediate family. From what she’d shown him, it didn’t seem like she appreciated that she’s associated with them, that or Junmyeon’s a very good actress.

But why?

Yifan is confused.

Did she play with his feelings, made him fell so hard just to mock him for it in the end? Was that it?

But the thing is Junmyeon never had to try. Yifan fell for her soul and it would take more than a surprising truth to eradicate the seemingly unceasing emotions that had taken root so deeply in his heart.

He’ll talk to her and hopefully they can get to the bottom of this.

~*~

The music hall is still as empty except for a lone woman sitting before the piano. Junmyeon plays a slowed version of ‘Rite of Spring’ the very piece he’d been playing when they met for the second time.

Yifan makes his presence known and when Junmyeon’s gaze lands on him, she smiles, subdued and a bit sad.

“Hi.”

Yifan smiles, “Hi.”

Nothing changes in the way Yifan thinks of her. She belongs to the world’s rich and so what? Yifan wants to make this clear because penniless or billionaire, no amount of money will define her worth. And in her case, she’s more than her riches.

Junmyeon has a beautiful soul and that’s most important.

“Why’d you want to meet in this dusty place?”

Junmyeon chuckles, “I wanted to hear you play? Will you?”

Yifan nods. He takes languid steps towards the ancient Steinway and caresses its ivory keys before sitting down. Junmyeon watches him as he strikes the piano. For the first time in a really long while, Yifan lets go. No sheet music automatically pops into his mind as he plays something new, something he’s never really heard himself play before.

The piece sounded harrowing, and it conveyed a mix of Yifan’s thoughts and emotions and a longing for someone so close and at the same time, so far.

“That’s definitely not Debussy.” Junmyeon says. “It was beautiful, thank you.”

“For you?” Yifan half jokes. He turns his back on the piano and tilts his head to look at Junmyeon. “You wanted to tell me something?”

“I still don’t know how to tell you. I’m terrified.”

Yifan pulls her towards him and gathers her in what he hopes is a placating embrace. He’s still sitting on the piano stool so he ends up pressing his cheek against her flat stomach. Junmyeon cards her fingers down his short hair and for minutes they stay in that position. The silence is calming.

“Whatever it is,” though Yifan already knows, “it’s okay. I understand.”

Junmyeon inhales, finally getting ready to narrate her side of the story. She never even gets to begin because Yifan’s phone vibrates. The message was from the hospice.

_Miss Yang demands your presence. Currently in stage 3, please arrive ASAP._

The patient is dying. Yifan sighs for two separate reasons.

“I have to go to the hospice. Patient needs me.” Yifan stands up, “I’ll go to your flat. And Junmyeon I understand, just tell me. I’ll see you later?”

Yifan turns to head for the exit but Jnmyeon’s grip around his wrist tightens.

“Yifan wait.”

Yifan has never really seen Junmyeon cry except at this moment. For some reason, she looks devastated and her hold is almost painful.

“Junmyeon what –“

Junmyeon kisses him, soft, lingering and loaded with far too much to be considered casual. Yifan feels tears on his cheek, tears that are not from him.

“I love you.”

It’s a goodbye but Yifan is far too surprised and far too blissful to consider the words for more than anything but a confession.

_I love you._

That sounded nice.

“I love you more.” Yifan says, smiling from ear to ear. “I love you, I’ll see you later, okay.”

Junmyeon never said yes.

~*~

“You need to fucking stop.”

The thing about law major Kim Minseok is that he never, _ever_ curses and _never ever_ loses his calm. That’s why he and Jongdae is a perfect match, because Jongdae is loud and in a constant state of caffeine induced panic and Minseok is the complete opposite.

Yifan’s seeing in doubles and he reeked of alcohol.

“Am I not allowed to be foolish for once in my life, Minseok hyung?”

He’s drunk but maybe not drunk enough. Everything hurts so fucking badly, the alcohol seemed to have enhanced all his senses instead of doing what its supposed to be doing. _Everything. Hurts. So. Fucking. Much._

Minseok snatches the bottle from him and puts it on the breakfast counter where Jongdae’s shoving every other empty bottle in the trash bin. The youngest of the three looks at Yifan in utmost concern. He must have been surprised to see Yifan so shattered.

But Yifan isn’t just shattered, he’s pulverized.

“Yifan this is enough, you’re going to poison yourself. It’s been a week, Wu, you’ve never been sober. You’re not attending your rotations, are you really going to do this to yourself? This isn’t the Wu Yifan I know, you’re better than this.”

And Yifan laughs because he knows, he’s fucking _aware_ that he’s gradually spiraling into someone he never wants to be just because of a woman.

A woman.

Love.

Fuck. It all seemed so petty, so mundane. Yifan used to think that feelings and relationships aren’t worth it, they’re inconvenient. The thing is, his situation is entirely different, _they didn’t have a relationship._ In the first place nothing really began so he doesn’t have the right to mourn over something that wasn’t even there. Hysterical.

And yet he’s here, on his umpteenth bottle of alcohol, trying to poison himself to momentarily forget Junmyeon.

He hadn’t been kidding when he told her he’s attached.

“I know hyung.” Yifan tells him, “I know. but what do you expect me to do? I’m so fucking lost here. She told me she loved me, _loved me,_ fuck. How am I supposed to know that she didn’t mean it?”

“Then stop killing yourself goddamn it! You’re not going to figure out anything if you’re wasting away like this. Go find out what she meant by that and for fuck’s sake if she played you then move on. You deserve better than someone who threw you around like that. You’re a doctor Yifan, you’re basically a goddamned genius. Use that intellect, damn it.”

Yifan understands. He presses both palm on his face and forces back tears because he doesn’t want to cry, not in front of Minseok.

“It hurts. No one told me it’s gonna devastate.”

“It doesn’t have to hurt, Wu. It doesn’t have to destroy you.”

~*~

Junmyeon disappeared. That’s it.

Yifan waited and left a thousand messages, called her a thousand times more. She never replied, his calls went unanswered. She broke him.

Before he started bingeing on alcohol, Yifan thought long and hard. What did she gain by telling him she loved him? Had Junmyeon expected this reaction from him, wanted to draw out Yifan’s helplessness by confessing and then disappearing the very moment he started looking for her?

It’s all so confusing and Yifan had been mad, but he realized that Junmyeon could do that too. She did nothing wrong by disappearing without another word. They hadn’t been committed and Junmyeon owes him nothing.

But still, why?

Then Yifan started drinking when he realized that maybe Junmyeon _did want_ this to happen. Like a game. Maybe she’d wanted to reduce Yifan into this, maybe hurting him gave her an ego boost. Yifan held a reputation after all, he’s one of SNU’s most prized students and maybe Junmyeon didn’t want that so she destroyed him.

It sounded comical, petty and infantile. Junmyeon hadn’t been that type of person.

_So, why?_

_Why?_

She could have just disappeared without telling him anything, and yet she did. She confessed and Yifan had been so happy. Junmyeon dashed his dreams.

God, just why?

A week after she disappeared, a representative from the Kim Mixed Industries arrives in the hospice bearing good news, the Kims had withdrawn the bid to the building.

Everyone cheers. Yifan remains silent. He should have been celebrating with the rest but he can’t bring himself to even function.

He’s reminded of Junmyeon’s words.

_I’ll do everything so that you’re happy._

Did she mean this? Did she force her parents to leave the hospice alone to make sure that the loss of it doesn’t upset him? She’d been so dreadfully wrong then.

Yifan’s not happy, Yifan’s not sad either. To be honest, Yifan’s starting to feel numb. He’d been abandoned, they always seem to do that to him. People just readily dictate his emotions and they think they have the right to adjust accordingly. People just automatically assume without asking. He can’t begrudge Junmyeon for that, he simply can’t but it doesn’t lessen the blow.

She could have just told him nothing, she could have just disappeared out of thin air without telling Yifan, with tears in her eyes, that she loved him.

Confessing an emotion as deep as love takes courage, love is a commitment and a million other things strewn into one complicated word. It’s a goddamned promise. Junmyeon is cruel, it’s like Yifan had fallen off and she’d held out his hand to help him up, and when Yifan thought he’s finally safe, she mercilessly let go.

What a mess.

~*~

A month after Junmyeon disappeared, someone called Kim Jongin goes looking for him. The man – boy – shares the same elegant bone structure as his older sister, Yifan sees the resemblance.

“Are you Doctor Wu Yifan?”

Jongin is in jeans and a T-shirt, he didn’t look like a billionaire’s son but so was Junmyeon. Yifan had learned to never assume by outward appearances.

“Not quite a doctor yet.” Yifan chuckles, “How may I help?”

Jongin looks away, fidgeting on his seat. “Can we step outside for a bit?”

“Sure.”

 

 

The boy liked cheap sandwiches with shredded chicken and a lot of dressing. Jongin reminds Yifan of Junmyeon so much and the dull pain becomes almost unbearable.

“I usually don’t meddle with noona’s affairs.” Jongin begins. “But she’s just devastated. I don’t even recognize her anymore. She has so many problems on her plate right now and somehow, I just knew that seeing you would comfort her. I heard so many stories about you so I’m just throwing the towel here because I’ve exhausted all options. I don’t know what relationship you guys have, but please, will you see her?”  


Yifan chuckles, “I’d like to see her. I love your sister but she doesn’t really feel that way about me. I don’t understand why she’s devastated when it was her choice to leave without saying why.”

Jongin stares at him, “My sister hasn’t told you the whole story. It’s not my right to tell. But if you change your mind, she’s in London. I’ll provide everything you’ll need, just go see her, please?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“For what its worth, I think Junmyeon feels the same.”

~*~

Yifan thought long hard but it’s the longing, something he felt deep into his bones that drove him to pack, enough for a few days. Jongin had booked his flight and readily provided for his stay in London.

Junmyeon resides in a modern townhouse a few blocks away from the University of Cambridge.

Yifan had caught sight of her so many times. She looked okay, a far cry from what Jongin told him. She’s unlike Yifan who’s driven himself to half insanity with missing her so much. He’s at a point where he’s willing to be with her in under any circumstance, she doesn’t even have to explain why.

But he holds back because he doesn’t want to overwhelm her and when he’s finally decided to make his presence known, Junmyeon indirectly mocks him for his poor decision.

He’s waiting in a café near her house, it’s eight in the morning and Yifan’s watched her enough to know that she passes by promptly at eight fifteen. This time, however, there’s a man by her side. The man has a boyish face, a lot shorter than him, Asian. The man has his arm around her waist and Junmyeon laughs at whatever it is he’s saying.

Yifan didn’t jump to conclusions but when the man leaves a kiss on Junmyeon’s cheek and Junmyeon never had a reaction, Yifan understands.

So, this was the reason why? She told him she loved him but she can’t be with him because she already has someone waiting for her on another country, halfway across the globe.

Junmyeon should have just stabbed him and left him to die, Yifan would have appreciated it more than her lies.

Yifan doesn’t know how long he sat inside the café. He doesn’t allow himself to feel because he could potentially combust. He’ll have a meltdown when he’s back in Seoul, but for now he sits there and the gravity of his realization makes bile rise up his throat.

Even after everything she did, Yifan’s still in love with Junmyeon and it hurts, it hurts so much.

 

 

 

 


	8. arrhythmia

The thing about Junmyeon is that she never wishes for anything that evokes a feeling.  

 Growing up in an environment where every material thing is given upon her behest and realizing that the little non-material things, the things she _craved_ and needed, wouldn’t be given as easily as the physical ones, she has long learned to stop wishing.  

But when she wakes up, body slotted against Yifan’s warm embrace, she begins to _wish_. Waking up to a partially darkened room with someone she can gladly spend the rest of her life with, Junmyeon desperately wants. At the back of her mind there’s an insidious whisper: she can have this, if she is willing to put his happiness on the line, if she is brave enough to grit her teeth and hide the truth from him.

The whole thing is comparable with wanting to put the entire ocean in a paper cup, impossible.

Eventually, she removes herself from his hold. Yifan startles, wakes and stares at her with bleary eyes. There’s a half-asleep smile on his face and Junmyeon’s heart breaks a little.

Yifan says, “good morning” and pulls her back. He holds Junmyeon and she sinks into his embrace _just a little bit more._ She can fool herself, maybe if she closes her eyes this would last.

He presses a kiss to her hair, whispers, “I adore you” in his native Mandarin. Junmyeon fists the sheets and forces herself to move away. He must have forgotten that she speaks the same language as fluently as he does. Junmyeon pretends to not have heard it, pretends to ignore the heartbreaking sincerity of his affections so easily portrayed amid the morning calm.

“Good morning.” Junmyeon grabs her underclothing from the floor, the bedsheets around her bare skin fall off. She doesn’t really care that Yifan can probably see her whole nakedness.

Warm palms slide down her waist, and a pair of lips whispers against the junction of her neck and shoulder, “Stop stripping.” Yifan chuckles. His voice is deep and soothing. Junmyeon turns, cups his stubbled jaw and kisses him squarely on the mouth. “I’m naked. Where’d the hell did you toss my bra?”

They stare at each other and after processing the seemingly normal, almost _mundane_ question, the two, laugh. Junmyeon’s life is in a complete utter chaos, spiraling out of control so fast she couldn’t even begin to dream of putting an impermanent pause to it. But there’s this moment of nothing but familiarity, of complete and utter _normalcy,_ and her life felt right for once.

“I lost it between the sitting room and the hallway.” Yifan smirks, “I may or may have not done that on purpose.”

Junmyeon playfully narrows her eyes at him. “Definitely on purpose. I didn’t think you were one of those guys who liked braless women parading around wearing your big shirts.”

“Not everyone.” Yifan kisses her again, “Just you.”

Junmyeon melts into his touches. Maybe breakfast can wait.

 

Kim Jongdae is in the kitchen when Junmyeon comes down. The engineering student is glaring holes on his laptop screen and to the unfinished blueprint on his drafting board.

“Rough day?” Junmyeon goes straight to the coffeemaker and pours herself the remaining concoction inside the jug. It’s almost midday – what was supposed to have been a brief make-out session had turned into something so much more. Jongdae hums, sighs and after making a face at his laptop, tosses his pencil to the table. “I don’t think I can get through this. The calculations are driving me nuts. It’s too much stress for a Saturday morning to be quite honest.”

Junmyeon glances at the man’s laptop which seems to be running some sort of structure design software. On the blueprint is an unfinished draft and a bunch of numerical scribbles running down on each side of the wide parchment.

“Need help?”

Jongdae chuckles, “Every help possible.”

Junmyeon deciphers the numbers. The calculations remind her of the more challenging trigonometry problems she did during her own engineering days but nothing near impossible. She does finish it. Jongdae is more than surprised when she inputs the right numbers into the software. “Where’d you learn that?”

Junmyeon shrugs, “I have a PhD in engineering.”

“But aren’t you in finance?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit. Wait, are you the one answering the problems in front of the engineering building?”

She nods. Jongdae would have figured it out anyway.

“You and hyung will produce scarily intelligent children. He has photographic memory and you’re basically a genius.”

Yifan, her, and children it seemed like a great thought but isn’t completely feasible otherwise.

Junmyeon smiles sadly. Family would have been beautiful.

“I think you’re really good for him.” Jongdae remarks.

 “Why do you say that?”

Jongdae finishes the rest of the calculations, grabs his errant T-square from the floor and finally completes the draft. “Because for the first time since I met him, he’s finally learning to enjoy… living. There hasn’t been a major change in our lives, so I think it’s got to be you who’s been making him happy.”

“I’m glad then.” Junmyeon says.

 

It never occurred to her that what she’s planning all along will have the capacity to potentially devastate him.

Junmyeon has always been selfish, and for the next few days she would remain so. She fooled herself and strung Yifan along because she needed to feel loved, to have something she could hold on to.

It never occurred to her, not once, that what she will do to the both of them might negatively impact Yifan in the long run. Because it wasn’t a charade, he _loved_ her. Junmyeon didn’t think, she took all he could offer and never looked back.

In reality, she wasn’t saving him; she was saving herself.

~*~

When Junmyeon closes her eyes, she could still hear the near perfect rendition of Stravinsky’s _Rite of Spring_ echoing through the walls of the dusty music hall.

The music hall has always been _their_ space. It was testament and witness to numerous realizations not necessarily about love but about life in general. It’s where Junmyeon first noticed that her pulse gets a little erratic whenever Yifan is near, it’s where Junmyeon first realized that she must be in love with him.

She didn’t want to taint this place with a bitter memory but it seemed appropriate somehow, that this be the place where she tells him everything. She would be ready to face his anger and it wouldn’t be a bitter memory.

If it’s with him, she would be fine with everything. Even the painful ones would be cherished, because at least she would have proof that once upon a time, she loved, and she was loved too. 

Earlier, a representative from the Trinity College Cambridge called to confirm her re-enrollment. Junmyeon had rolled her eyes, they _knew_ her, but what they want is the complete solution to the existing Navier-Stokes problem. She started working on a counterexample for Navier-Stokes’ existence and smoothness after acquiring her engineering PhD, but had it botched a year and half after completely losing interest over it. She was twenty, far too young to be stressing over something that wizened scientists have worked over for decades.

And for once, she’s studying _economics_ not Mathematics nor theoretical Physics. she knows, but what the master puppeteer wants, he gets.

Nonetheless, the manuscripts are gathering dust inside Junmyeon’s file cabinets, hundreds of papers containing scribbled notes and equations folding upon each other. It gives her migraine, but maybe getting her heart shattered would move her forward.

“Why’d you want to meet in this dusty place?”

Junmyeon felt like she’s drowning in thin air. “I wanted to hear you play. Will you?”

Yifan stares at her in amusement, hopelessly obliviously to the tempest that she tried so hard to hide.  The man finally sat before the piano and played a symphony for Junmyeon to hear. The piece was haunting and yet impossibly calming. It drew her in like his own soft touches.

“That was definitely not Debussy.” She says after the final note echoes into a finish. Yifan turns around, his back to the piano. “For you?”

Junmyeon smiles at him. She loves him, so much.

“You wanted to tell me something?”

There it was, the ultimatum. At the end of the day, everything would boil down to this. Junmyeon’s not ready, in fact she’s terrified. She admitted her fears and Yifan, ever sweetly, held her close and told her that it’s alright.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay. I understand.”

The words gave her reassurance and maybe a big splash of blind courage.

 Junmyeon began to talk and Yifan’s phone rang. An emergency call from the hospice had taken her last chance to tell him the truth.

He stood up. Junmyeon panicked, she was watching him leave like fine sand through her fingers.

 “It’s a patient. They need me.”

 _No, no, no._ Her flight was in a few hours and Yifan was leaving and he knew nothing.

Blind courage propelled her forward, a palm closed around his arm and pulled him back. Junmyeon kissed him, poured every unsaid apology, every hidden feeling into that one kiss. It was more than idiotic to think that it would be enough.

“I love you.” Blind courage.

She knew her declaration would be nearly meaningless. At the end of the day, she left and told him nothing.

Not even a goodbye.  

Yifan looked far too happy. “I love you too.”

Junmyeon had to sit after watching him go. Her breath was coming in short gasps, it was a borderline panic attack and she had to force air into her lungs to breathe.

She never noticed the wetness on her face from the tears she obliviously shed.

~*~

Growing up, Junmyeon never had a _best friend._

At five, she was acquainted with this odd kid that helped with the gardening in the Kim family’s estate – a mansion hidden in the outskirts of Seoul. The boy wasn’t a kid, he was seven years older than Junmyeon and only humored her because she entertained him with knowledge she wasn’t aware she possessed.

Jungsu was always with her and for two summers they remained great friends, until his father ceased working for the Kims. Junmyeon never saw him again. Up until she was shipped halfway across the globe, the only companion Junmyeon called a friend was a hyper golden retriever named Panggi.

It was a life of relative solitude until Byun Baekhyun came into the picture. 

The Byuns were Korean expats in the UK. Junmyeon first met their youngest son, Baekhyun, in genius cram school. The boy, while not nearly as intelligent as Junmyeon herself, was a genius in his own right and quite hilarious.

Junmyeon and Baekhyun were great friends, sticking with each other and ploughing through equally disdainful subjects that shouldn’t have been taught to kids their age regardless of their high IQs.

He was his best friend and family rolled into one. Baekhyun knew her like the back of his hand and Junmyeon can unravel Baekhyun like he’s a complicated partial derivative.

And Byun Baekhyun is very gay. His humor and lighthearted sass have always been there through Junmyeon’s darkest days.

 She still remembers how Baekhyun came out to her: he panicked through the phone because he kissed a boy and loved it and Junmyeon had to fly herself to London to calm him down.

They had good memories and currently said Byun Baekhyun paces through her spacious sitting room ranting in his accented Korean.

It’s been a month since leaving Seoul and Junmyeon feels hollow. She’s not sad, she doesn’t feel anything at all. She wakes, tries to feed herself and goes about everyday life like she hadn’t left her soul in that dusty music hall in Seoul National University’s old liberal arts building.

It’s an understatement to say that she misses Yifan.

The first few days were the most terrible. It’s like dealing with a death of a loved one though the reality is far from it. Junmyeon isn’t really versed on the ways of coping so in the unhealthiest way, she had suppressed her grief.

The thing is, when Junmyeon is sad she drinks herself to oblivion, but when she’s empty, she studies. Mathematics is a good distraction.

Books, papers, pencils and unwashed mugs littered the previously pristine space.  Junmyeon did not stop until she passed out from sleeplessness and exhaustion. If it weren’t for Baekhyun, she would have actually managed to kill herself.

When she came about, she’s in the hospital with an IV line pumping nutrients into her bloodstream. The tall doctor reminded her of Yifan and it’s all too much. Baekhyun didn’t say anything when he sat beside her on the hospital bed and allowed her to weep into his neck.

It hurts.

~*~

“Do you like,” the way Baekhyun flips through the finished pages of the Navier-Stokes’ counterexample implied that he is more than confused, the man’s eyebrows are furrowed. “understand this? I mean it’s all so nauseating. I know you’re a descendant of Archimedes or some shit like that but now I’m pretty sure you’re not even human.”

Junmyeon chuckles, “Do I look relatively inhuman to you? Damn, I thought you think I’m pretty. You wound me Baek.”

“Shut up Myeon. I’m serious. This stuff is legit, do you plan to publish? I have the connections just say the word.”

Junmyeon grabs her coffee mug and finishes the rest of the remaining liquid. “I don’t know. It’s partially finished, I still have to check with the professors, experiment a little and kiss a few asses. I’m tired Baek and we both know theoretical mathematics isn’t really my cup of tea.”

“Then why don’t you just go for what you like and fuck ‘em for once. It’s been years Junmyeon and you’re still strung up like a puppet. Don’t get me wrong, I love you and all, but you really need to stand up for yourself.”

Always easier said than done. Junmyeon appreciates his effort though.

“Not everyone’s like you Baekhyun. You know they have me in a chokehold.”

Baekhyun puts the manuscript on the coffee table and stares at Junmyeon like he can see through her, he probably can. She has well kept secrets but when it’s with Baekhyun, she’s an open book with words jumping off its pages. “No, you’re just afraid to let go. I think deep inside you’re still craving for _their_ validation that’s why you’re here, studying something you loathe and distracting yourself with things that never interest you. Stop lying to yourself Myeon, and maybe things will work out.”

Junmyeon gives him a sardonic laugh. What Baekhyun said cut too close to home and it’s ironic how the truth is almost hilarious when it happens to be painful.

Maybe he’s right, maybe Junmyeon needs validation because she’s been ignored and casted aside for most of her life. Is it wrong to crave for a fragment of affection from people who’s supposed to have _loved_ her for who she really is?

How fucking tragic then.

“I don’t know Baekhyun.”

“But that’s not the problem here.” The man says.

Junmyeon knows exactly where this conversation is heading. They’ve both been ignoring the elephant in the room all the while Junmyeon had simmered in her own misery. At least Baekhyun didn’t want to scratch out the wound when it’s still fresh and bleeding.

“You hate a lot of things because you’re such a cynical bitch sometimes, but I don’t think knowledge, in any form, would cause you this much grief. Now, tell me what _exactly_ happened with Yifan.”

Junmyeon sighs and finally talks. She tells Baekhyun about the hospice and the underlying threat in her father’s words, the last fourteen days and just how much she loved him.

Baekhyun doesn’t talk for the longest time. He sits there and processes the words Junmyeon told him with an impassive expression. When he finally opens his mouth, it’s with a flat voice that asks Junmyeon a question she didn’t know how to answer.

“Did you really love him?”

Junmyeon looks away. “I thought it’s clear enough that I did.”

“No, just answer the question. It’s a yes or no.”

“Yes, Baekhyun. I love him.”

“Then why the _fuck_ did you leave him?”

“Because I – “

“Because what?”

Junmyeon left because she wanted him to be happy. Did she do the right thing?

Maybe she didn’t.

What she had with Yifan – feelings, love the whole nine yards – though beautiful, had also been strangling her and she had been so helplessly oblivious. She’s blinded by her love for Yifan that she feels compelled to save him.

Save him from what?

It’s never clear from the beginning. The parents had never implicitly announced that they intend to do something horrifying to Yifan, in the first place they never really cared about Junmyeon nor the people she chooses to interact with. Junmyeon had made hasty decisions regarding her relationship – or lack thereof – to Yifan. It never occurred to her that maybe, she should have asked him. After all she wanted to shield him from the hurt.

She approached the situation completely on impulse, she never stopped for one minute and thought that maybe her family wasn’t the threat to her own happiness. Her family hadn’t been the threat to her and Yifan.

It was her own fears.

“Cat got your tongue?” Baekhyun moves to sit beside her. Junmyeon invades his space and exhales as she listens to him talk. “You’re the most intelligent person I know but you’re so fucking daft when it’s about the emotional side of things. It should’ve been so easy Junmyeon, you just had to talk to him.” Baekhyun sighs. “Even if you loved him, you had no right to dictate where his happiness should be. And what you did in those fourteen days was selfish Myeon, and cruel. I know you have reasons, but you shouldn’t have just left without telling him anything. You don’t abandon the people you claim to love.”

“I wanted to tell him.”

“And you’ve been here a month, nothing’s stopping you.”

“I can’t.”

“See. You can Junmyeon, but you choose not to. It’s love Junmyeon, it’s not some nauseating, unanswered mathematical theorem. It doesn’t have to be that complicated and lastly, it doesn’t have to hurt.”

 

 

Junmyeon remains sitting there, long after Baekhyun leaves for his own classes at King’s. She decides to ditch her own lectures in favor of mulling over the epiphany her best friend had just left her.

Baekhyun’s right and wrong at the same time. Emotions are complicated period, but it also shouldn’t hurt this badly.

_Did you love him?_

Junmyeon asks herself again and like the first time no concrete ‘yes’ pops into her head like she assumed. She wonders why it’s hard to admit that yes, she did love Wu Yifan. There shouldn’t have been a moment’s hesitation.

She remembers that conversation they had on school grounds _. It’s not easy to fall in love with a person and not just the idea of love._ It was poignant, beautiful and all too vague. Junmyeon never really understood what Yifan meant by falling in love with the _idea_ of love but maybe this was it. She loved him but more than that, she was also in love with the _feelings_ that came with him. Yifan made her feel appreciated, gave her existence a purpose, a validation. Junmyeon had basked in everything he had to offer.

 Junmyeon thought he was perfect though Yifan made it clear from the beginning that everyone is flawed. She put Yifan up on such a high pedestal, saw him through rose tinted glasses to protect one facet of his being –  the facet she fell in love with.

_“Fuck.”_

Junmyeon realizes the reason why she fears the moment he learns the truth about her, because by then Yifan would have shattered that own image. He would have loathed her and in the image that Junmyeon saw him in, Yifan didn’t have the capability to hate someone, more so if it’s her.

In the end, Junmyeon did love Yifan, but she was only in love with the Yifan that was willing to offer the moon to her, with the Yifan that loved her too much. She’s not sure if she could also be in love with Yifan’s less than beautiful sides, with the Yifan that’s flawed and imperfect, with the Yifan that she never really saw.

Baekhyun is right, Junmyeon can undo everything. She can come back, fall to her knees and beg for his forgiveness but in the end, she chooses not to because she’s afraid.

She really didn’t save him, she saved herself.

Junmyeon is selfish, always has been.

~*~

“You are awfully quiet and honestly, it _is_ freaking me out sis.”

Baekhyun had his arms around her waist and Junmyeon is too lost in her thoughts that she does nothing to stop Baekhyun from invading her personal space, he’s always been such a clingy monster.

“I was thinking about what you told me yesterday.” They stop in the middle of the street and Junmyeon stares at all sorts of people going on about their business and she wonders if she’s the only one who feels like she’s lost in the middle of a wide desert.

Baekhyun stops in his tracks but his arm stays firmly around Junmyeon’s waist, as if he’s offering her comfort. Junmyeon appreciates the gesture.

“I loved him Baek, I really did, and I still do.”

“What’s stopping you then?”

“I’m selfish and I wanted to say he’s better off without me but we both know that’s my greatest excuse.”

Baekhyun gifts her with a smug smile. Junmyeon shakes her head, laughing amicably.

“I’m not coming back, well not yet. Maybe this time I need to figure myself out first, love myself a little bit more.”

Dramatically slapping his chest Baekhyun declares, “ah my child is learning. I have reached the pinnacle of my existence.”

Junmyeon smiles, “I’m leaving us to fate for now. After all, I do believe that if it’s meant to be then it’s meant to be.”

Baekhyun, touched, leans forward and leaves a sloppy kiss on Junmyeon’s cheek. The latter rolls her eyes at the exaggerated emotions playing on the man’s face.

“Look, since you’ve finally reached an epiphany we need to celebrate. I’m visiting the parents later and you need to come with me. Let’s eat good food, sing pop songs and get unbelievably shitfaced we forget our names. Sound good?”

“Sound good.”

Junmyeon needed to learn how to love herself first. After all, how can she love someone else if she can’t even love herself?

~*~

//

It’s a known fact that time moves excruciatingly slow for someone who’s anticipating something.

 Days, weeks, months, years and countless hours spent in libraries, coffee shops and orphanages, pass. It’s been two whole years and in under seven hundred days, Junmyeon relearns herself.

She steps into her own closet of skeletons and cleans it, bit by bit. It’s hard to find balance when faced with the demons she ignored half her lifetime and at times she just wanted to run away from it all.

Predictably, she starts seeing her doctor again. Junmyeon never really felt comfortable with someone sifting through her flaws and baring it out to her in less than flowery language. She’s too prideful, unprepared and far too scared to face her own problems but she realized that she needed someone to point them out and paint them clearer than a spring day. It’s a rigorous process but otherwise, soul cleansing.

Junmyeon learns that she can’t always hide behind a mask, pretending that everything’s alright. Over time, she finally admits that she’s not wholly fine perpetually standing behind her own brother’s overwhelming shadow and she admits that it hurt far too much when her own parents largely ignored her that through the years she had learned to numb herself. This suppressed grief negatively impacted her life and it’s the root cause of her own demotivation and cynical tendencies. Despite literally having everything from money to brains, connection and heartbreaking beauty – or as what countless people tell her – she still went about life like it was a dreaded cycle of unending inanity. Nothing was there that made living worthwhile.

She thought she protected herself by caring less but in reality, she merely held it in and eventually this perspective affected not only herself but also the way she interacted with people and her relationships.

It was a long way to healing but at least the road was paved and Baekhyun was consistent in his assistance, he was there through and through.

Junmyeon is flawed and that’s okay. It took so long to _really_ acknowledge her imperfection but, in the end, she realizes that despite her metaphorical cuts and bruises, she is still capable of loving herself and in turn loving someone else.

Maybe this time, she can finally reciprocate Yifan’s affections without expecting anything less than perfect from a man as flawed as she is.

Wu Yifan.

Junmyeon never really moved on. She thinks about the doctor constantly and thoughts of him would always bring a bittersweet smile to Junmyeon’s lips.

She really had been cruel, and like slow acting poison in her blood, Junmyeon is always thoroughly reminded of her selfish, reckless and idiotic decision. She quells these thoughts down though. In the moment they meet again, she wouldn’t begrudge him for not wanting to have anything to do with her, but if there’s a sliver of chance that he wants her back in his life then Junmyeon would fight for that chance with everything she’s got.

Just another year, she’s going to finally return home and hopefully, to Yifan as well.

~*~

Six months later, Junmyeon prematurely returns to Seoul. She’s a few weeks shy of completing her education, and to be completely honest, she’s more than ready to handle the reins of Kim Mixed Industries without wanting to raze it to the ground. She’s different now, equipped with a world perspective that isn’t as selfish.

It was a call that pushed her well thought plans into a domino of chaos.

 “Your father had a heart attack.” 

Junmyeon hasn’t heard her mother’s voice in years. Miran remains the ever-sophisticated socialite as she relays the news. Junmyeon knew she tried to sound unaffected but her voice trembled even through the phone.

“We need you to come home.”

Left without a choice, Junmyeon hurriedly says good bye to Baekhyun and to the life she’s gotten quite used to.

To be back in her homeland is a jarring experience. In three years, nothing really changed much but she changed, Junmyeon changed a lot.

When she stares at the mirror she doesn’t really find the person she used to be, anymore. A year and half ago, she had her waist length locks chopped and she hadn’t felt anything as her bright red hair fell unto the ground.

She looks better, professional…grown up. She’s finally the person whom her mother can look upon and nod in approval.

Junmyeon has decided to accept her fate and she has long ceased on running away from her problems. Two years ago, she hated the very _prospect_ of inheriting her father’s position, but the thing is, she has been built for it. Junmyeon held no passion for anything but she admits, economics, business and money in general come to her like second nature.

And Jongin doesn’t really want anything to do with the conglomerate just yet. Her younger brother graduated from his own business program and is currently harnessing his dancing talents in his quest to move on from Jung Soojung. Jongin won’t be back for another five years and Junmyeon’s ready to take on his position for the meantime.

~*~

Kim Jihoon, Junmyeon’s father, doesn’t look fragile at all – pale perhaps.

Junmyeon had been indifferent to her own parents growing up, she didn’t hate them, she didn’t particularly like them either. She just wanted to be away from them.

But seeing her father, lying pleasantly unbothered on his hospital bed, Junmyeon realizes that the apathy she had towards him, is merely concealed hatred. To be quite honest, she loathes her father.

This man treated Junmyeon like a well-oiled machine than a daughter. She never heard him speak to her until his wife recognized that Junmyeon harbored an intellectual capacity fit for a genius.

  _You need to be the best._

And Junmyeon was the best. But did her father even say the littlest of his appreciation? A small smile, _I’m proud of you._ God, Junmyeon would have been so happy.

But he never did and Junmyeon allowed her life to spiral out of control because maybe she wanted him to notice. Junmyeon was the best, her father didn’t care; Junmyeon fucked up, he didn’t care. Nothing really mattered but the business he helped build from scratch.

And now, it’s like nothing can undo this hatred, it’s like a disease that has no cure.

The man on the bed finally opens his eyes, he directs his gaze at Junmyeon and somehow, there’s a smile on his face.

“I’m surprised you came home.”

Junmyeon scoffs, “Your wife instructed me too. Need someone else to sit on your throne now, father? The doctors tell me you almost popped an artery.”

The man looks away, “Cold as ever. You are like your mother.”

Junmyeon crosses the room and sits on the sofa near the man’s hospital bed. She scoffs before she says, “Were you waiting if I’d fall to my knees and cry then? Don’t expect too much, I don’t think I would have shed a tear if you actually died. And I’m sure, you would be the same if it was me.”

“I don’t harbor such thoughts.” Kim Jihoon partially rises from his reclined form. “You are still my daughter after all. But I wouldn’t begrudge if you don’t see me as your father.”

“Stop lying to yourself. We both know that you, nor mother, don’t think of me as your child. You just didn’t care enough.” Junmyeon stands up and heads for the door. The conversation is stifling. Just as she’s about to turn the doorknob, the ailing man tells her the words that conveniently stops her in her tracks.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

Junmyeon doesn’t turn. “I don’t need your apologies father, I just needed you but it’s too late for that now, I suppose.”

“No, I apologize. Your mother and I pushed you too much. You have potentials that can give you so much more than money, so much more than what we had. We wanted you to pursue that more than anything else. It’s what’s best for you.”

Junmyeon, unable to contain the anger brewing inside her, turns and laughs, mocking and indignant. “What’s best for me?”

Anger is such a complex emotion. One can be crying whilst angry and Junmyeon happens to be one. She hates that her anger turns into tears.

“Do you know how ridiculous that was, father? Even in my craziest imaginations, I never thought you’d say that. How can you know what’s best for me when you don’t even _know_ me? To you I existed, somewhat, but more than that, did I even mean anything other than the person you forced me to be?”

Kim Jihoon, pale and almost fragile, smiles. It’s a vague expression, it wasn’t really a happy smile, more than anything else, it was sad. “And for all that you’ve said, I am sorry. I think you are right, I do not really know you, and I am very sorry it took me all this time to apologize for what we did. I do not expect you to forgive me, nor am I forcing you to. I just want you to know that I am truly sorry, at least by this, I have done one thing right as your father.”

Junmyeon looks away. She doesn’t really know how to categorize the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside her like a damned hurricane.

“If you were given the chance to do it all over again, would you have treated me like your daughter?”

Jihoon does not reply for a long time.

“At the end of the day, I am me, and you are you. I will always push you to greater things because I know you are capable of so much more. You can instigate a change in the world.”

Junmyeon does not understand why the words lanced. She’s used to it, but why does it still hurt so much?

“Yes, I guess at the end of the day, it’ll still boil down to this.” Junmyeon finally turns for the exit, and as she twists the doorknob open, she tells her father. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to tell me anything else. I will sit as interim for both of your positions until you recuperate. Jongin isn’t going to come back soon so I’m taking over for him too. Good bye, Chairman Kim.”

As soon as her father can’t see her, Junmyeon allows herself to release the breath she’d been holding. She looks ahead and not a minute later, cries.

It’s hard to accept what the old Kim had said. To be rejected twice by the family she thought she had is another stab to the heart. She wants to blame the universe for giving her to people who never wanted her in the first place. She wants to blame the universe for being born.

It’s with this state that the woman meanders aimlessly around the hospital. The pristine white halls and the cloying scent of disinfectant are fantastic distractions. She passively thinks of Yifan. The same man she selfishly abandoned without explanation, the same man she never wanted to hurt but she still did anyway. Junmyeon’s far too good at fucking up non-harmful relationships.

Yifan finished medical school a year and half ago. Junmyeon had read about him and the study he published in a respected medical journal. The last she heard, Yifan is the youngest head of neurosurgery in a private hospital in Seoul.

 She’d been so proud of the man he became. She wonders if Yifan’s moved on from her, and from all the joy and pain they brought into each other’s lives. Junmyeon constantly thinks of him. She never really allowed herself into somebody else’s life while she’d been away. It would have been selfish to barge on another human being just to seek for something she associates with Yifan alone.

She’s selfish, but not enough to use other people as rebound for her idiotic decision.

_Is he married now?_

Junmyeon would have been happy, nonetheless. He deserves someone who loves as intensely as he does, someone who will never break his heart. Junmyeon will be happy for him even if it hurts her.

Junmyeon continues to aimlessly wander. She’s standing on the manicured lawn shadowed by the enormous hospital building. Wheelchair bound people are being chaperoned by staff decked in hospital scrubs of varying colors.

It’s here, after almost three years, that she sees Yifan again.

Junmyeon quits walking and stares. Yifan is wearing royal blue scrubs under his immaculate white coat. What used to be auburn hair is now jet black and, cropped short. The chunky glasses are gone replaced by frameless spectacles. Junmyeon smiles, there’s the man she loved and still loves.

Suddenly, Junmyeon wants to run to him and have him hold her. She hadn’t been actively thinking of the things she’d do and the words she’d say if she ever meets him again. She thought there would have been elaborate words and grandiose gestures but now that they’re here, Junmyeon just wants Yifan’s touch, the most basic human instinct of needing to be close to someone we hold dear.

But for now, Junmyeon manages to content herself by watching him speak with his wheelchair bound patient.

 Then suddenly, Yifan looks to her direction, Junmyeon freezes. _Did he see her?_

She wants to cry for a second time, nothing would have prepared her for this. Junmyeon screws her eyes shut and inhales, and just as she’s about to open them. She hears someone call, “Doc Wu!” from behind her.

There’s a woman – a female doctor – appearing from behind her. Yifan must have looked up when he noticed the other doctor. Junmyeon hides the clear hurt by an awkward chuckle. “Of course, of course.”

The female doctor hands Yifan a chart. She tells him something that makes Yifan smile. The other doctor looks at him with an expression of adoration, it’s evident on her pretty face.

Junmyeon turns away from the scene and mumbles, “Of course, of course.”

There’s pain emanating from her chest. She ignores it.

~*~

The board of directors comprises fifteen people. Mostly balding men that should have retired long ago, sat around the long conference table. They’re clearly appraising Junmyeon and the latter refuses to back down.

These are old men, experienced but far too incompetent. Her father knew this, thus consequently wanting to put Jongin into the highest position available as soon as he’s willing, to avoid these old men from bringing Kim Mixed Industries unto the ground.

They don’t like her, and that’s okay. She isn’t in the position to lord over people’s opinion of her. They can all think for themselves and if they want to associate Junmyeon with the terrible reputation that precedes her, then so be it.

What’s important is growth. The conglomerate is a formidable force to be reckoned with, but it won’t stay in that position if these old timers vote to stay in their comfort zones. No growth happens without risk and Junmyeon’s far too willing to take a risk.

Currently a younger director is propositioning a field that KMI’s never toyed with. The prospects excite Junmyeon but at the back of her mind, she knew she wanted this for other ulterior motives. The rest of the directors furrow their eyebrows, clearly not wanting to venture into foreign territory with an interim commander in position. They don’t trust Junmyeon. Unfortunately for them, even though Junmyeon doesn’t share a warm, familial relationship with her father, the old man trusts her enough as a business partner. And what the master puppeteer wants, he gets.

The presentation finishes. Junmyeon leans unto the table and places her chin on top of her fingers. “Let’s go into healthcare.”

If she successfully conquers this field, then she and Yifan might have their chance, another chance, and hopefully this time, her luck won’t run out as quickly as it did.

The directors stare at her, and one by one, an agreement is made.

~*~

On the frosted glass door to the office of the CEO, a golden plaque with an inscription is emblazoned. The plaque says:

**JUNMYEON KIM**

_CEO and Chairman_

_Kim Mixed Industries and Co._

Junmyeon stares at her name and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update took forever jfc. i am sorry.


	9. integrals

He’d seen her.

It’s like Yifan walked into a dream – an image so clear it was probably a midday hallucination. He’d thought it was merely a product of the soul deep exhaustion he’d felt but it wasn’t like that. _She_ hadn’t been a figment of his imagination and how he wished it wasn’t so.

In reality, only a few yards’ worth of manicured lawn separated him from Kim Junmyeon. The same woman who practically tore him to pieces and poisoned his heart. After all these years of trying to move on, Yifan never expected this kind of reaction.

He hates himself for it, for the anger, resentment and longing all mixed up into the oddest concoction of what he called a feeling. Junmyeon easily tore down his walls. He feels weak all of a sudden.

She changed so much, the clothes she wears screams of money from top to bottom. The long red hair that Yifan loved is gone, replaced by a short bob, black as night and symmetrical. It’s sophisticated and so, so, unfamiliar it almost ached. 

Yifan could barely recognize the woman he orbited around. He double thinks and concludes that maybe he never really knew Junmyeon at all. She came into his life like a hurricane wrapped in the prettiest package, with a ribbon made of elaborate lies.

She really was something else. And Yifan loved her, _oh god how he loved her._ And she left, she left without a word goodbye.

It must have been pitiful to think that she loved him more than a passing body, more than a replacement for someone that hadn’t been there.

It still hurt, but Yifan’s not angry anymore. After all, he could never really be angry when it comes to Kim Junmyeon.

It was her, it is her, and maybe it’ll still be her. The heart loves who it loves, always.

“Chief Wu?”

Yifan tears his gaze away. In front of him stands the ever pretty Doctor Song Qian, one of his talented juniors in neurosurgery and Yifan’s on and off fling for the last three years. Song Qian’s a rebound from the catastrophe that was Kim Junmyeon – Yifan hates himself for that.

“Song.” He tries to smile at her, eyes passively wandering to where Junmyeon once stood. She’s gone; Yifan feels bereft all of a sudden. “You got something new?”

The female doctor hands him a chart which contains more medical information all summarized in bullet points. Yifan nods concisely, “Good. Maybe you can take Hana back to her room. I’ll run this with the team. You follow right after.”

Qian nods, smiling ever so beautifully. It used to make Yifan’s heart skip a beat because she reminded him of Junmyeon, it doesn’t anymore. It hasn’t made his heart skip a beat in nearly two years. Yifan should really stop leading her on, but he’s selfish.

His head hurts and he thinks that he’s far too young to be having constant migraine attacks that start from the back of his skull and crawl over his temples. Yifan’s recently turned twenty-eight but he feels like he’s eighty-five and ready to face death.

He hates the torture that came with the job.

Yifan finished school nearly three years ago. He’d gotten over Junmyeon leaving by listening to Minseok’s suggestion and focusing on his education – writing medical papers here and there and having graduated with the highest academic honors and an award for the research he’d conducted and wrote for his dissertation. A year into residency and he’s become the youngest chief of neurosurgery after his predecessor had practically sold him to the hospital board with overwhelming words about his inherent surgical talent. “It’s great to start early!” was the older surgeon’s comment. He passed the reins onto Yifan and hightailed out of there.

Yifan thinks he was doing fine as a resident neurosurgeon – he’d travelled a lot for conferences and medical symposiums, he’s inherently brilliant with the scalpel and his patients like him and believe in his capacity to fix whatever ailment they have.

Unfortunately, his peers in the neurosurgery ward…distrust him to put it lightly. He understands the sentiment. These are wizened surgeons, old men and women who’ve acquired medical knowledge throughout the years but have never been so lucky to be handed the titular Chief of Neurosurgery like how Yifan got it. And yes, he may be talented, wise beyond his years, and somewhat built for the career path he’d chosen but he lacks experience. And in this field, more than seniority, experience is a fundamental factor for immediate promotion. Even if it’s a hospital, the hierarchy is still very political and very much based on money. One receives higher amounts of cash the higher he is on the food chain.

Yifan understands that the older surgeons may dislike the hospital board for appointing him chief, but he also completely understands the ire – or that he’s mostly the talk on the grapevine in the local medical community. He’d declined the post of course, but the board had been adamant. He’s a known face for the dissertation he wrote, and the international neurosurgery community respects him for it – the board thinks it is enough reason to put him in as Chief. So far, he’s stressed beyond belief, both from endless cases he supervises and the loathing he receives from fellow surgeons.

Recently, the board also wants him to mediate a negotiation between a bigshot conglomerate who wants to invest on healthcare and neurosurgical research. Yifan’s quite sure that he’s not just going to mediate, he’s also going to be the hospital’s spokesperson – a well-dressed, well-educated and highly paid prostitute for another business who hides behind the guise of _bettering people’s lives_ by sucking them dry.

And Yifan’s tired but he’s already dedicated his life to medicine. This is his field, his _calling_ and even if it’s vile behind the scenes, he’s still quite happy he gets to extend people’s lives. At least his existence has a purpose and even if it’s hard, he’ll have to grit his teeth and survive.

And Song Qian’s there. The younger surgeon believes in him, makes him happy in odd days. Yifan’s contented with the small things.

~*~

“Maybe we should suggest to the family about the surgery after all. You think there’s a good chance of survival if we get the tumor removed?”

Yifan quietly munches on his food – a slice of wheat bread and bland tuna – and shakes his head. “You’re telling me it’s on the brainstem. It’s too risky, we’re looking at possible post-op complications – complications we’re not even sure of the severity. But it’s a choice, that or radio and chemo, everything’s aggressive in their own ways. Wong’ll probably disagree with me, he’s going to want to push through with that surgery even if the chances of survival are low. It should be a crime to cut on a patient in that stage. We’re just going to hasten her life.”

Qian stirs her coffee, tapping away at the tablet she placed on the table. “Well, you’re the chief, you’re the boss man in this place. You should tell them, for once. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Chief Wu. But you need to quit letting the old timers trample all over you.”

Yifan scoffs. “Easy for you to say. You’re the freshest blood in our ward and no old timer looks at you like they want to put you on the OR table and give you unneeded craniostomy. I mean, Wong looks at me like he wants to crack my skull and resection my fucking medulla or something.”

The statement makes Qian laugh. For a few minutes, they’re silent until she looks at him and smiles. “I miss you, Fan. Come over, later?”  

Yifan should have said no. At the rate they’re going, someone’s going to be attached, fall in love and be hurt – and it won’t be Yifan. Yifan’s been hurt long ago and he’s not willing to risk it anymore. He’s not a big fan of getting left behind.

But Yifan’s selfish and he gets drawn by Qian’s almost familiar smile. He agrees knowing that they’ll probably lounge in the sitting room of her apartment and languidly fuck until the crack of dawn. Qian gets needy, but she tries to hide it. Yifan knows she’s not okay with the whole friends with benefits kind of setting, but she hasn’t said anything and Yifan’s not willing to indulge.

~*~

“I never really said anything but this whole arrangement sucks.”

In their ward, Friday is a good day. Intense thirty-six-hour shifts finish and if there’re no extended surgeries, Yifan has the privilege to enjoy the weekend. That’s quite the only thing he appreciates about being chief, they’ve taken him down from the on-call list, so he can sleep his weekend away without getting disturbed at the middle of the night because he needs to depressurize someone’s skull.

As predicted, he’s already naked – they both are – on Qian’s bed. The younger doctor has her white sheets over her chest, one hand over the night stand where an overflowing ashtray sits. Yifan’s told her a million times to quit smoking but she never really listened.

“Oh.” Yifan says, thumbing the edge of his shot glass. Their session had been intense, and Qian had been so lost in pleasure she’d accidentally let slip the truth that both already know. “I’m sorry.”

Qian rakes her hair up, chuckling in a kind of self-deprecating manner. “Not your fault. God, was I damn insane? From the beginning I knew something’s bound to happen, I was gonna fall in love with you because you’re so damn perfect. Every time I see you across that OR table, it’s like my whole body’s melting. I tried to avoid it, but damn it Yifan, I can’t resist it. I can’t resist you.”

“Fuck, Qian.” Yifan sighs, “I don’t know what to say.”

Qian avoids Yifan’s gaze. “You don’t need to say anything. I know you’re never gonna look at me the way I look at you. I know that, but it’s been really hard to deal with this lately. I’m suffocating.”

Yifan firmly presses his lips together. The silence is stifling and Yifan really hates how this relationship is turning out. It’s not just Qian’s fault. It’s his too. Actually, he’s the bigger sinner for leading her on. He never really planned to take responsibility for whatever feelings he could instigate. He took and took without ever planning to give something in return.

He reaches over and grabs Qian’s forearm. “Qian, come here.”

Qian doesn’t hesitate when she crawls over and straddles him. His arms go around her waist, pulling her closer. If heartbreak could be physically felt, this was it. She’s falling apart because of him. She hides her face on the juncture between his neck and shoulder and quietly sobs.

“I’m so sorry.” Yifan whispers. Fingers gently tracing patterns on her lower back. “I’m so sorry, Qian.”

This is what it felt like when Junmyeon left. Yifan wished so badly that he could have held her even as she broke his heart. So Yifan holds Qian, maybe for the last time. She needs the touch.

“Stay.” Qian tells him, “please, Yifan.”

“Okay.”

Qian confesses for the last time as Yifan kisses her shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

“You’re breaking me apart.” Qian whispers, her nails painfully digging into his shoulder blades. Yifan ignores the pain, holds her tighter, for consolation. “I know, Qian. I know. I’m sorry.”

He leaves early in the morning.

~*~

Another day, another migraine attack.

Yifan’s staring at the clear blue skies from Director Lee’s office and he’s two seconds from jumping right out.

He is so exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally.

Qian had effectively put a barrier between them. They’re still very much compatible as professionals, still working as seamlessly as before. There’s no rift in the hospital, no problems in the OR but Yifan feels it, this great wall of avoidance that Qian had placed in between them.

Yifan misses her company, but he’s not going to begrudge her if she wants to avoid him. After everything that’s been said and done, this is clearly the next step towards moving on.

 _His migraine is on another level_.

“Just be yourself. You’re brilliant everybody would love to work with you. But in the instance your charm fails, just sweet talk them into signing the deal. This would be good for the hospital – we’re talking billions here Chief Wu. Billions!”

_Why does everything have to be about money?_

“Doc Wu?”

The hospital director stares at him, expression carefully blank. “Were you listening to me?”

“I’m sorry Sir.” Yifan tries, the headache progressively getting worse. It now feels like his very nerves are twisting from end to end.

“You look pale, Doc Wu.”

“I’m okay, Sir. It’s just a headache.”

“Very well then. There is going to be a meeting with the representatives from Kim Mixed Industries, I want you to come with the hospital board.”

“Why me?”

“The new Chairman specifically wants to invest on neuroscientific research. And that is your field, yes. So, I want you to be there, sweep KMI off their feet with your brilliance.”

Yifan can’t think straight with the headache that’s pounding through his skull, so he just nods. The director seems happy with his coordination. They finalize a few more things then Yifan’s already leading himself out of the older man’s office. When he reaches the blessedly empty surgeon’s lounge in the Neurosurgery ward, he merely blinks before crashing upon one of the couches and blacks out.

When he comes about, the pain in his temple had faded into a dull throb. He still thanks the person who handed him his glasses though he can’t recognize anything or anyone now.

“Headache?”

Yifan vision clears when he slides his spectacles on. He sees Qian who’s poorly masking the worry in her tone.

He nods, “Yes.”

“You blacked out this time, Chief Wu. Maybe you should get that checked.”

“I have.” Yifan brings fingers to his temples, massaging gently. Initially I thought it’s a tumor pressing onto my brain, but thankfully it’s just exhaustion. Nothing painkillers can’t fix. Don’t worry about me, Song. I’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll always worry about you.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Qian.”

“I know, I can’t help it.” The younger surgeon hands him a pill – standard painkiller – and her own water bottle. “Please take care of yourself.”

“I try.”

She sighs, “I bumped into Director Lee earlier, told me to tell you that the meeting with KMI’s been moved to this afternoon. Maybe you should go get dressed.”

“KMI, as in Kim Mixed Industries?” Yifan must have been really out of it. He didn’t even hear the director mention about KMI.

Qian nods, “The same conglomerate that has Asia’s economy dancing on its palms, that KMI.”

“Figures. Lee mentioned the billions that came with this deal. Do you think the hospital will have my license revoked if I don’t manage to get them their money?”

“Probably not.” Qian laughs, “Maybe you’ll even get them the deal.”

“We can only hope for good things.”

Yifan changes into a cream-colored shirt under a black coat with matching pants. The reflection that greets him when he stares at himself in the mirror is quite unspeakable.

“I’m tired.”

The statement echoes within Yifan’s soul. He’s tired. He’s so, so tired.

~*~

The Kim Mixed Industries’ headquarters is the tallest building in Seoul’s business district. It’s a chrome monolith shadowing everything in the nearest vicinity with all its fifty-five floors.

Yifan really hates it.

He’s the only doctor amidst sharply dressed businessmen. Director Lee had given him a short onceover before he entered the car and if the director had something to say about his attire then Yifan apologizes. He’s too tired to do anything about it.

They’re being chaperoned into a wide conference room in the thirty-fifth floor. One side of the wall is completely made of glass, thus allowing a panoramic view of Seoul.

Yifan’s so out of it he merely stares at the scene until another group of sharply dressed people enter the room.

And there she is, standing amidst businessmen in a black and white ensemble, ebony hair gathered in a loose bun, and heels clicking against the floor. Kim Junmyeon is standing right in front of him, surprise evident on her beautiful face.

Yifan isn’t dreaming because he’s rather feeling gutted. He’s not sure what expression he has on – is it shock? Anger? Hatred? Happiness? He’s not sure and he does not want to know.

Junmyeon blinks and the expression on her fine visage shutters then neutralizes completely. It’s like she’s never seen him before this, like she hasn’t smiled and laughed and cried in his presence. Like they haven’t kissed and fucked and loved each other so desperately.

 _I love you_.

The final words she told him still haunts Yifan to this day.

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

It rings in his head at the dead of the night, like a broken record he couldn’t smash even if it drove him mad.

Anger, hatred – love, love, _love._

Yifan wants to shout in her face, he wants her to know that after all these years it still hurt and then he wants to kiss her, kiss her so fucking desperately and beg the whys.

_Why did you leave?_

_Why did you lie?_

_Why did you have to tear me apart?_

_Why did you tell me you loved me when you never did?_

“Good afternoon gentlemen.”

And just like that Yifan snaps out of his thoughts. His insides are boiling, and his headache worsens tenfold.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Yifan stares  at Kim Junmyeon throughout the initial meeting. His head is throbbing even after managing to swallow another painkiller.

After three, almost four years, she’s become unfamiliar. Hazel eyes cold and calculating, fingers tapping measuredly against the oak table. She exudes such an intimidating aura and it’s quite absurd that she never struck Yifan as someone who could intimidate. She’d been so vivid in his dreams with her maroon lips, fiery red hair, and perpetually dark clothes.

But even then, she was warm, she smiled, laughed and cried. She was a cynic with the warmest heart. She was a beautiful soul more than a pretty face.

This Junmyeon still looks the same. The last years had sharpened her, made her even more…gorgeous. But Junmyeon must have lost all the warmth she could spare. Yifan wants to know if those lips – now in a modest shade of red, professional, non-distracting – could still smile as sincerely like it had been when she covered it dark purple.

This is the Junmyeon Yifan never saw. Kim Junmyeon – billionaire and polyglot with an IQ of 190. Intimidating, ruthless, Kim Junmyeon.  

The meeting seemed endless, Yifan becomes increasingly antsy – from being in Junmyeon’s presence, headache and his soul deep exhaustion – continuously rubbing his dry palms on the cheap material of the pants he threw on.

After three hours or an eternity, Yifan’s not sure, the meeting finally ends. More ass kissing happens, and Yifan shakes hands with people he doesn’t really trust and tries to smile through the pounding in his skull.

He pauses, watches everyone trickle out of the room one by one. Junmyeon’s voice stops him before he could push the frosted glass door open, it effectively roots him to the spot.

_“Yifan.”_

He waited years to hear that voice; four years, almost half a decade, an entire lifetime.

It’s nice to hear it once again.

“I –“

And honestly, Yifan’s does not want to hear it again. It’s taken him years to move on. He’s not letting Junmyeon brings his walls down again. It’s going to cost him his life, he’s not willing to give it up.

Yifan turns around, gaze unwavering, expression carefully void of anything. “Do you need anything else?”

_“I’m so sorry.”_

Yifan thought he’d waited in vain to hear those words. It hadn’t been in vain, but he’s done waiting. He’d stopped for a long time now.

Junmyeon’s expression from earlier has changed. Yifan wants to believe her, wants to believe this shattered look on her face. She blinks and when she inhales, she’s merely stopping herself from crying.

Yifan wants to believe her, but this isn’t Yifan’s first rodeo. After all, once upon a time, they had been in this exact position. Yifan’s not willing to take a risk anymore.

“Can we talk?”

“I heard you wanted to fund my research,” he says, massaging his thumbs to get the blood flowing, “that’s great, I’d appreciate that a lot. I’m head of neurosurgery, that’s why they sent me here. I’m supposed to woo you in, get them the billions they want – I really shouldn’t have said anything, but you wanted to talk.”

“Yifan it’s not about – “

“If we’re not going to talk about business then what’s there to talk about?”

The air conditioning is on full blast but the chill in the room isn’t from some electric contraption blowing cool air around them. Junmyeon is quiet.

“You don’t need to explain anything. I’ve heard enough.” Yifan stares at her, “and I’ve seen enough. Let’s not waste our time by going through things that’s better left in the past.”

Yifan turns to leave but Junmyeon pitches forward to grab his arm, the touch is electric. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry, and I’ll say sorry for as long as it takes, until you forgive me.”

There’s a dull ache in his chest. “I’ve forgiven you a long, long time ago. I’m too tired Junmyeon. I don’t want to be in pain. I’m done hurting.”

Junmyeon does not stop him when he finally leaves.

~*~

Friday evenings without Qian to keep him company are for overthinking.

Yifan cures his headache with half a bottle of brandy. He’s drunk, but not too much. The alcohol gave him a nice heaviness around his head, blurred his thoughts so when he lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling, it doesn’t hurt too much.

He thinks about Junmyeon, that shattered expression on her face and her voice. God, he missed her so much. If he never learned, he would’ve succumbed to her right away. He would’ve done anything to have her back in his life.

But Yifan’s older and he likes to think that maybe, he’s also a little bit wiser.

It would have been great to pick up where they left but they’re different now, different people who lead different lives. They aren’t simply two college kids, confused like everyone else and stumbling into this elaborate scheme called love.

Jumping right into another relationship after so long, and after years of piled up emotion, they’d merely hurt each other again. If it’s for them, then it’s for them.  The universe will have to align, or some shit like that, and produce its miracle.

They’ll just have to wait and see.

~*~

The next time comes too soon.

“KMI’s funding a lot of orphanages and hospices in the country – it’s like the new CEO’s personal mission, somewhat – anyway, the board has agreed to volunteer with KMI. We’ve funneled a lot of money into this, hoping she’d show her enthusiasm and eventually invest with us.”

Yifan bites down the urge to strangle someone, “And what’s my role in this?” he asks instead.  His head’s still throbbing but he’s managed to deal with the pain.

“Be there. Try to show her we’re really meticulous about patient care and health in general, be as hands-on as you can.”

“Pardon me director, but what do you mean by hands on?”

“Act like you care, act like you’re doing what you’re doing because you love it and not because of your fat pay cheque.”

Yifan prefers director Lee Sanghyuk and hates the rest of the hospital board, especially the likes of director Kwon Sangwoo. He hates dealing with highly educated men who run their mouths like illiterate bastards.

But then again, hierarchy. He can’t simply topple who’s on top of the food chain.

“I understand director.”

“Great. Kim Junmyeon likes to be in _Green Meadows._ Word says she dropped a billion for its renovation and plans to do more for it in the future. She seems to like it.”

He smiles, “I understand. I’ll try my best director.”

“Good.”

~*~

Yifan continued to volunteer in _Green Meadows_ until a year ago when his responsibilities started stockpiling _._ Patients there still call him the tall handsome doctor.

The place held so many of Yifan’s greatest and worst memories.

Nothing had changed about the place except for its people, new faces replacing those who passed away. Nurse Zhang Yixing – who’d finally married his lover of five years – is still manning the children’s ward.

“Chief Wu!”

Yifan chuckles, “Please, Xing, you’ve always called me ‘ge’ why the change?” He signs in the volunteer’s form, Junmyeon’s name is written right on top of his.

“It’d be disrespectful.” Says Yixing. Yifan shakes his head, “It’s okay, Xing. Don’t be a stranger. I’ve had enough of people calling me Chief, I feel old. One more person and I’m gonna be a fossil.”

“Maybe you are.” the nurse teases, “Kim Junmyeon walked in a few minutes ago. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“I haven’t seen her in years either.”

 

Like the first time she’d been here, Yifan sees Junmyeon reading to children in the cancer ward. She looks different, yes, but her enthusiasm is familiar. One child about four, enamored with the woman, climbs into her space and situates himself on her lap. Junmyeon giggles, wraps an arm around the boy and continues to read.

Yifan was wrong. Junmyeon still has enough warmth to spare. He sits on the floor, cradles his perpetually aching temples and listens to Junmyeon’s voice.


	10. myocardial infarction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> potentially triggering content ahead.

Even after almost four years, Yifan hasn’t changed. His hair might have been in another color, he might have had shed some weight off his bones and the glasses he currently wears are of a different build.

 

But he hasn’t changed.

 

Up close and personal, Junmyeon cannot say anything to him without wanting to gather herself. Yifan meets her gaze and they were in this stand still, for a moment time seemed to cease and five seconds stretched into what felt like a lifetime.

 

This is the third time she’s seeing him. The second time had been a week prior, and the first was two years ago in Beijing. Junmyeon had business to take care of and it’s there that she was invited to sponsor a medical symposium. Yifan was one of the speakers. Junmyeon tried so hard to stay away.

It still hurt, but time helped her understand her own intricacies and issues, time had made her realize that what she did to him was utterly self serving.

 

But her heart desired Yifan, _desires_ Yifan.

 

She was the only person in that hall that wasn’t in the allied health profession, but she listened intently (though the topics were an alien concept to her) and pieced together fragments that she did understand.

 

The symposium sparked her interest in surgery, particularly in neuroscience. Maybe it was Yifan’s passion over his field of expertise that got to Junmyeon. He talked with such poised confidence and his knowledge was intriguing and simply beautiful. She missed him.

 

With time, Junmyeon healed and moved on from things that hurt her, but her affections never waned. Time only worsened her longing for someone who might never forgive her.

 

 

 

Yifan’s expression changed - surprise most evident of all. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything because his presence leaves her speechless. She breaks eye contact and thankfully her voice doesn’t come out strangled when she speaks.

 

Junmyeon fights the urge to stare at Yifan throughout the meeting. She needs to be perfectly professional because the board of directors monitors her every move, like vultures ready to devour her just for the probabilities of a mishap. One mistake and they can remove Junmyeon from her position. She doesn’t want that to happen, time and far too much effort have been sacrificed for the position she currently holds. They can try.

Plus, she has her ulterior motives. Breaching an unfamiliar business territory like health care and scientific research is frightening, but Junmyeon doesn’t fight her battles without preparation. She didn’t plan things on a whim. She equipped herself with more than the necessary information and made use of available technology and trends to predict the outcomes of her decision. For the first time in a long while, Junmyeon is thankful that she’s a literal genius, her intellect had been useful.

Choosing to partner with the hospital Yifan works in though, is not a a coincidence. It was Junmyeon’s bet, a bet with such important stakes on the line. She took the risk for the slimmest chance to be with Yifan again.

Like a desperate fool.

Junmyeon tries to maintain a renewed vigour in regards to life and living in general. She wants to show that she’s not the same volatile Kim Junmyeon who’d changed so drastically in less than half a decade because she fell in love with the right person at the wrong time. She tries to be a better human being.

But sometimes, she allows herself to be intimidated, then she’ll find excuses to return to her cynicism and negativity.

 Humans have certain coping mechanisms, varied ways to fight varied demons. Junmyeon may have perfected a facade to cover up old scars, but deep inside she’s still bleeding from wounds that may have never really healed.

 

She’s gotten real good at deluding herself.

Board meetings are elaborate presentations and endless cups of bland coffee. Junmyeon tries to keep a neutral expression, eyes firmly upon the lady who is pointing at multicolored bar graphs projected on the screen.

Junmyeon doesn’t need to listen, she’s studied this deal hard enough and she knows it like the back of her hand. Every possible outcome mapped, every possible drawback predicted, every little thing that could go wrong already has a solution planned. To Junmyeon, this deal is a personal battle, a culmination of the very intellect she was cursed with.

An hour, and another…time stretches and it’s suffocating her. She wonders if Yifan’s mind is as calm as the expression on his face or if he’s sitting through this tedious meeting recalling everything that had happened between them a few years back.

Junmyeon wonders if he still wanted to be in her presence, despite everything that’s been said and done. After what _she_ did to him.

Finally, the meeting finishes. Junmyeon stands up and shakes hands with people that likely do not have very good impressions of her. They’re old business people, built their empires from old money and questionable methods and they all tend to gravitate to the worst of preconceived notions. Junmyeon doesn’t blame them. She’s barely thirty years old, a naive child in a game played with dirty schemes by professional liars. They are free to believe in their preconceived notions and Junmyeon will be very happy to prove them wrong.

 

The last person exits the boardroom. And then it’s just them, just Yifan and Junmyeon and four years of piled up emotions and words left unsaid.

“Yifan.”

Junmyeon breathes and her perfected persona melts off her entire being. Suddenly, she’s twenty-three again, sad, frightened and helplessly in love with a person she didn’t deserve.

Yifan returns her gaze, his expression belies nothing of what’s on his mind.

“Can we talk?”

Her voice breaks, it’s pathetic that she can hear the vulnerabilities she tried so hard to hide.

“I heard you wanted to fund my research,” he cuts her off. His tone professional and impersonal. It’s like talking to a familiar stranger. “That’s great, I’d appreciate that a lot. I’m head of neurosurgery, that’s why they sent me here. I’m supposed to woo you in, get them the billions they want – I really shouldn’t have said anything, but you wanted to talk.”

Junmyeon’s chest constricts and it’s painful. She deserves it.

“Yifan it’s not about – “

“If we’re not going to talk about business then what’s there to talk about?”

 

_Us._

_Of what I did._

_And that I love you so, so much._

_I’m sorry._

 

“You don’t need to explain anything. I’ve heard enough and I’ve seen enough. Let’s not waste our time by going through things that’s better left in the past.” There’s a minute change in Yifan’s expression when he stared her down. There’s a mocking smirk as he quietly assessed Junmyeon’s tailored outfit, a drastic change from her cheap shirts and ratty jeans. Unlike then, Junmyeon now wears clothes worth thousands upon thousands of dollars, money that could have fed a family for a whole year.

She wouldn’t blame him, she doesn’t look at herself in the mirror too.

His dismissal is ice cold. But then again, what can she expect from someone who usedto love her? Yifan is right, they are a thing of the past.

And it hurts.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry, and I’ll say sorry for as long as it takes, until you forgive me.” She tells him this. It’s selfish to demand forgiveness but Junmyeon’s soul needs it. She’s selfish, always has been.

 

Yifan doesn’t say anything for a long minute.

 “I’ve forgiven you a long, long time ago. I’m too tired Junmyeon. I don’t want to be in pain. I’m done hurting.”

And there it is. When Yifan leaves, Junmyeon has to sit down and breathe.

Among other things, Yifan walking away from her life, was and is always a possibility. Junmyeon didn’t like dwelling on it, to soften the eventual effects of rejection. Before it came to this, there’s always this lingering desire that after everything, they’ll still have another chance. It gave Junmyeon hope - and in this situation hope is a dangerous thing.

Watching Yifan exit the room without another glance lent such a jarring permanency to it all; it’s as if Junmyeon already lost her battle without the chance to actually fight for it.

It’s ironic how the forgiveness she thought she needed was a metaphorical blow to her face. _I’ve forgiven you, but I’ve had enough._

Maybe this was it after all.

Junmyeon laughs, throws her head back a bit because she doesn’t want to ruin her mascara with the tears that are slowly pooling at her eyes.

In the end, Wu Yifan is a hard earned lesson.

_Because you don’t hurt the people you claim to love, Junmyeon._

~*~

 

 _Green Meadows_ is as ancient as the day Junmyeon first laid eyes upon it. The edifice is a monument to the past, a misplaced gem in a backdrop of lead, chrome and lifelessness.

Junmyeon loves the place. It holds some of her fondest memories and for once, she actually fought for something she wanted. _Green Meadows_ is a testament, and she is glad that she saved it from her own father’s greed.

Nurse Zhang Yixing is still youthful, bright-eyed and eager to help. Junmyeon signs her name on the volunteer’s form and Yixing gives her a smile so bright as if they haven’t seen each other in so long.

The place hasn’t changed. It still has its familiar sickly, pastel yellow walls and pristine tiled floor.

It’s the people that changed. Yixing tells her that the old couple who renewed their vows almost four years ago, have passed away. Some of her favorite children have succumbed to their illness.

It’s sad in ways she couldn’t elaborate. But life goes on.

Junmyeon wanders through the halls, and she sees her younger self, curious and fumbling and unknowingly enamored with then medical student Yifan, whose mint green scrubs and tired visage affected Junmyeon in ways she never expected.

It all feels like a lifetime had passed.

 

She enters a children’s play ward where curious young people direct their sights at her. She smiles, greets the children amicably and sits down to read for them. She remembers the first time, where she panicked and snapped at Zhang Yixing for inadvertently subjecting her to the same situation.

It all happened a lifetime ago. So much has changed, but for Junmyeon this is familiar.

It gave her existence a purpose.

The last few years weren’t solely dedicated to business concepts and economic theories. Junmyeon hadn’t spent her days wasting away inside the lecture halls of Trinity College.

She traveled to distract herself and at the same time find a purpose to her existence.

So she flew across the world, sprinting from one continent to the next and volunteering in places where she could. Junmyeon spent a good part of her billions on people who needed food, water and shelter, on children who desired education, and on women in need of medical attention.

It made her feel good about herself, made her feel less useless. It gave her purpose, a vindication for her wrongdoings.

 

Junmyeon continues to read.

The children around her don’t look too well but their tiny grins and bright laughter are enough to placate the unrest in Junmyeon’s heart.

 

And even if Yifan stepped away from her life, she is grateful to him. He opened doors for her. Wu Yifan taught her how to be humane and compassionate in a world that seemed so cruel.

She will always be thankful for that.

 

~*~

 

By fate or inadvertently, they meet again.

Two weeks after the board meeting and her initial talk with Yifan, Junmyeon sees him again. He still looks tired, but not nearly as emaciated than the first time.

Business talks between the hospital and Kim Industries are still ongoing. There’s still a last phase, which entails more paperwork and ass kissing, but in the meantime both organizations look at a  possible partnership to build branched hospices across the country.

Junmyeon didn’t think she’d see Yifan again. The part of the deal with his involvement is done: a specialty hospital that would eventually double as a research center for the Neurological Sciences, dedicated to treating and caring for people with diseases inflicting the central nervous system.

It’s the lovechild of Yifan’s passion and intellect.

Junmyeon was nothing short of fascinated when she’d read his dissertation. It was all sorts of brilliant and Junmyeon was, and is still so proud of him.  No wonder he is Chief of Neurosurgery three years into formal practice.

 

Medicine is art, Yifan is a great artist and Junmyeon is an connoisseur willing to shell out millions to show his craft to the universe.

 

The Fourth time.

 

There’s a genial smile on Yifan’s lips. They’re standing across each other on the grassy courtyard of an old building that Junmyeon plans to buy and renovate. It will be a hospice. The environment is conducive to such efforts since it is away from the noise and pollution of the city.

Amongst other things, the hospices will be Junmyeon’s personal mission, a rebellion of sorts. Normally, her father would have objected to such nonsensical goals. It isn’t exactly lucrative, money lost could potentially never be gained back. Junmyeon doesn’t care and she has superimposed her authority on the board. Half of the businessmen doesn’t want to go through with it, and the other half supports Junmyeon in her decision because they’re under the impression that it will be good PR.

Typical.

Earlier, Junmyeon had allowed her subordinates to finalize the paperwork, allowing her to see the property for herself.

Fast forward, here they are.

 

Yifan is in jeans and a black jumper over a collared shirt. He looks considerably younger and he doesn’t exude an intimidating aura as opposed to when he’s clad in doctor’s white.

Like the Yifan of four years ago.

Junmyeon mildly panics, but doesn’t let it show.

“There’s an audiovisual room in the west wing.” is what Yifan tells her. “You want to go see it?”

Junmyeon finds herself nodding almost dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Yifan echoes.

The sudden character change is astounding, like a rug pulled from under her. Junmyeon composes herself and tries not to get too affected. _Try_ being the keyword. She’s missed Yifan so much and his presence makes it hard for her to keep her mask of indifference intact. She wants to ask him so many questions.

_How are you?_

_Are you happy?_

_Have you met better people?_

_I miss you._

In the end, Junmyeon settles for: “Doctor Wu, what are you doing here?”

Yifan does not gift her with an answer. They slowly traverse the courtyard to the western part of the compound. Their surroundings are peaceful.

 

“The truth is that my bosses sent me here.” Yifan finally says as soon as they reach the said room. Junmyeon looks away and instead stares at the hallway which is devoid of life. “Because they’re hoping to really go through with that partnership with Kim Industries. They believe they will gain millions out of it.”

“Oh.”

Junmyeon didn’t expect the candor but she appreciates it anyway.

She’s a juvenile in her field but she knows how greedy businessmen think.

“Were they planning to fake the sincerity?” Junmyeon asks. Yifan nods. “Guess so.”

Yifan pushes a pair of heavy doors open and then they are greeted by dust motes suspended in long panes of sunshine which cut through half parted curtains. The room is large and there is an elevated portion that seemed like a stage. On top of the stage is an old piano covered in dust.

“Are you familiar with this place?” Junmyeon inquires.

Yifan nods. “This compound was a music academy.” He approaches the piano and silently lifts the lid. “After my mother’s cancer diagnosis and before her stay at the hospice, she quit the orchestra and held cello lessons here. I admit she must have terrorized her students at one point. She was fierce.”

Junmyeon smiles, “I think she was a great teacher.”

“She was.”

 

Yifan sits before the piano and runs long fingers upon the keys, jangling the unused instrument into life. Then he plays and his playing is still controlled - perfect in a way that it seemed like he has the entirety of the sheet music embedded into his mind.

It brought back unprecedented memories.

After a while, Yifan says. “My bosses did send me here, but to tell you the truth, I wanted to see you too.”

The statement subjects both into considerable silence. Junmyeon does not know what to reply to that nor does she want to address the irrational hope that came back to life and resurfaced within her.

Eventually Junmyeon manages to wake up from her daze. “Why?”

“I got curious.” Yifan shrugs, “Yixing told me you came back to the hospice.”

“I did. I wanted to see the children.”

Yifan takes languid steps toward her, expression ever unchanging.

“You’ve really changed.”

The statement could have pertained to so many things so Junmyeon chooses not to give a reaction. She merely returns his ambivalent smile and says, “Let’s go back. Thank you for showing me this room.”

Yifan just nods.

It’s hard to curtail old habits. When they’d been together, Junmyeon’s fingers always connected to Yifan’s, one way or another. She liked holding his hand. Now, even as they walk side by side like familiar strangers, Junmyeon still finds it hard to resist the urge.

He tells her that she’s changed. Yes she did, but not entirely.

“Your directors don’t need to send you to mediate business negotiations with my company.” Junmyeon tells him when they’ve returned to the courtyard. “If they’re thinking that I need to be bribed with fake sincerity to acquiesce, then they’re wasting their time. If they have the guts to pull through with it, if they’re convinced that their organization will do well. By all means, they can send actual representatives. Then, we will see.”

Junmyeon is about to step forward when Yifan grabs her by the forearm and gently tugs her towards him. “I am their representative.” Yifan says.

“You don’t have to do this, Yifan. I did terrible things and if my presence is unwarranted, I’d rather you stay away from all this and focus on things that you want to do.” Junmyeon says, “I believe in your hospital, it’s one of the best in this continent. Your directors must have been thinking that I am naive. But the thing is, they don’t need to play their schemes on me. I know how their mind works.”

“No, I really did want to see you.” Yifan tells her. His expression belies nothing of his motives.

Two weeks ago, Yifan finally walked out of her life and Junmyeon is slowly coming to terms with it. And then here he goes with his vague smiles and vaguer intentions and giving Junmyeon irrational hope. It’s unfair how easy it is for her to succumb.

 

She sighs, “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“I never said that.” Yifan says, chuckling. “I am tired, yes. But I realized that what happened between us, is a thing of the past. We’re older now, we’ve changed. We’re not the same people anymore.”

Junmyeon felt time pass by so slowly. The last few years seemed to stretch into an eternity, like a dark tunnel that didn’t seem to have an exit. Hearing Yifan say these words, Junmyeon wanted to ask if he felt the years too. Or if he conveniently forgot her the moment he had his chance, the moment _she_ walked away.

“Yes.” Junmyeon says. “We’ve changed.”

_But, I love you still._

“We should move on.”

It will take a long, long time for Junmyeon to move on. _Move on_ , it is an abstract idea. How does she move on from something that was never fully established, how does one move on from essentially nothing?

But Junmyeon is ever pathetic and endlessly hopeful. She’ll take what she can get.

“I’ll try.” She says. “I think it will be hard to forget the things I did to you, to _us_.”

Yifan averted his gaze, and when he said “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” it was almost a whisper. They share another quiet moment, “It wasn’t just you. Maybe it was me, maybe I drove you away.”

 

“Yifan -”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.” Yifan’s smile is still ambivalent. A long time ago, Junmyeon used to be able to read every minute change on that expression and now it’s as if he’s become another stranger in a sea of countless strangers.

It’s a tragedy and if Junmyeon’s heart isn’t already broken in too many pieces, this fact could potential end her.

Junmyeon inhales, “If this is what you want, alright. By now, your directors are aware that I have my sights on various properties here and across Southeast Asia. I plan to build branched hospices and organize volunteer work as much as I can. If they really want to gain that much money, they’ll have to lose millions before relatively experiencing growth. For now you should get this message across, that this project isn’t exactly a money-making scheme.”

“Volunteer work?” Yifan asks.

“Medical missions, community immersions, teaching outreaches and all other help possible within my capabilities. I got myself involved with UNICEF and W.H.O, couldn’t exactly shake off the habit.” She doesn’t tell him that she donated 1.2 billion US dollars worth of humanitarian aid for children in one continent alone. School across South Africa and Southeast Asia, shelters for women in developing countries, hospitals and disaster relief aid across the pacific rim.

And these were all done in complete anonymity, through countless third parties that didn’t connect to Junmyeon nor to the Kim family name.

 

An expression akin to relief, crosses Yifan’s face. For once, his ambivalent smile does not seem so vague.

“You’ve changed.” He tells her, “You’ve changed.”

Junmyeon wants to know: _in what way._

She looks away and answers, “I tried.”

And she is still trying.

 

~*~

 

Byun Baekhyun returns to South Korea after fourteen years. Junmyeon picks him up at Incheon International Airport and even if he claims to say that half of his brain had already shut down, he does not fail to scoff at the vehicle Junmyeon chose to drive him in.

“Really,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, “A fucking Bond car? What an egregious display.”

“Can’t I get a damn greeting?”

Baekhyun pitches forward and gathers Junmyeon into a familiar embrace.

When they part, Junmyeon laughs. She dangles the keys to her silver Aston Martin in front of Baekhyun’s haggard face. “Wanna drive or would you have preferred the lowkey ones, say an Audi, or the Ferrari.”

 

“Your addiction to luxury vehicles is beyond me. How can you call a Ferrari, lowkey?” Baekhyun says, “Bought a yacht recently or what?”

“I believe the old man’s yacht was finally delivered to his dock in New York. Other than that, I haven’t made any purchases.” Junmyeon shrugs, “What the hell am I gonna do with a yacht?”

 

Junmyeon will not say that she’s a frugal person. She does spend her money on material things. Junmyeon doesn’t like to call it an addiction, as Baekhyun would say. It’s a _penchant_. For others, it’s jewelry made from stones of the highest value, bags worth millions of dollars, or Haute couture from designer brands that littered the streets of Paris but for Junmyeon, it is automobiles. Junmyeon is oddly fixated to luxury vehicles. She picks up her Aston Martins, Bugattis, Maybachs and others of significance, annually since the year she learned how to drive.

That, and real estate. A dozen flats and mansions scattered in Asia and Europe, a villa or two in both Italy and France and a private island resort amongst _others_. But to put things into perspective, most of her wealth go into charity, since she has so much money she doesn’t even know where to spend it anymore.

Junmyeon doesn’t exactly associate with the kind of crowd her socialite mother belongs in. She finds the children of old and new money, alike in their ostentatious displays of wealth and overwhelming competition to be the greatest. To simply mingle in their presence drives her half insane. That, coupled with the fact that she cannot exactly discuss things of relevance with such people because they’d rather talk about _designers_ or _what’s new from next season_ or that t _his property was bought by god-knows-who for crazy amounts of cash_ and billions worth of sophisticated, toned down bragging rights.

Spending most of her childhood in Europe and her teenage years in MIT had honed her capability to blend into almost all sorts of crowd. She was born rich, with so much money on her immediate disposal but her upbringing didn't expose her to what she could _buy_ with all her money. Her wealth didn't blind her from the fact that a lot of people are still dying from starvation. A fact that most of the elite in the upper circles choose to ignore.

But then again, the crazy rich will spend their money and there’s no force in this universe that could stop them.

Junmyeon knew of course, but depression and anxiety crippled her in her early twenties that she cannot exactly categorize herself as a humanitarian of any sort. She was too busy wasting away. Depression is a powerful opponent and if it weren’t for Yifan, she would have probably succumbed a long, long time ago.

Yes, money is great but it can’t buy everything, not in Junmyeon’s case.

 

 

 

“I think I’m gonna get blue balls just by sitting in this car.” Baekhyun comments as they get into the vehicle.

 

“Do you want it?” Junmyeon asks as if she’s offering a piece of chocolate.

Baekhyun almost chokes. “I’m not even gonna ask if you’re serious because I’m pretty sure you are.”

Junmyeon shrugs, “I think of buying a Rolls but I don’t think I’m old enough to be driven around in those antiques since I’m not royalty or particularly, Queen Elizabeth.”

Baekhyun stares ahead, still chuckling at his best friend’s casual candor. “Do you even realize just how fucking wealthy you are?”

Junmyeon eases into the main road, slightly flooring the expensive vehicle because she can afford to. “I try not to think of it.”

“Odd, with a net worth of 14B I’m not sure if I can sleep soundly. And to think that you were dead drunk and crying in my flat a few months ago.”

“Don’t believe the articles. They’re all bullshit.” Junmyeon says, “My inheritance is enough for me to live comfortably…and was I seriously crying? You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

“Says a person who wants to give her best friend a fucking Bond car for shits and giggles. And yes _sis_ , you were. I have receipts. ”

Junmyeon drives them into the business district where people don’t even blink at the sight of a clearly expensive sports car since everyone is in an expensive sports car. In the center of the place is an eighty story building and the tallest in the vicinity. It’s an apartment tower recently acquired by KMI as a part of a series of acquisitions for the ever growing real estate sector of the conglomerate. Junmyeon occupies the penthouse - a four thousand square foot apartment with four bedrooms and a view that inspires.

“Hey, if you don’t want the car now, I’m just gonna have it delivered in time for your birthday and whatever.” She says, parking the vehicle and disembarking. Baekhyun soon follows and he puts his hands together, closes his eyes and starts murmuring. “Dear lord, I must have done something right in my past life to deserve a best friend as rich as Kim Junmyeon. Thank you so much.”

Junmyeon laughs and tosses her keys to a young man in a red uniform. “The valet thinks that you’re crazy.”

Baekhyun stares at the imposing building, squinting at the blinding light that reflected over its chrome edifice. He’s quiet for a minute. “But all kidding aside, I really owe you this one. Thank you for giving my unemployed ass, a job.”

“I’m proud of you for getting yourself unemployed though. What a way to get fired; standing up to your racist boss.”

“Yeah, I _loathed_ him.”

Junmyeon hasn’t always been this perceptive but she manages to notice the minute change of Baekhyun’s expression. He exuded such pure hatred that Baekhyun, who’s always a gentle soul behind his flamboyant personality, didn’t seem to be capable of until now.

_What happened to you?_

“Baek, are you okay?”

 

And just like that it vanishes.

“I’m quite ecstatic to have finally gotten out from that hellhole.”

Junmyeon wants to address the elephant in the room but she’d rather let it cool for a while. Baekhyun is notoriously private about his problems and tries to keep a tight wrap around his general unease but he always comes around, bursting at the seams. That’s just how he is. They’ve known each other for more than fifteen years and Baekhyun only ever had a grand total of two meltdowns in her presence.

Instead Junmyeon says, “They just lost their best architect. I’m not going to be surprised if they start losing clients too. For the record, I was thinking of signing with them for a property in Southern France and have you do the little tweaks.”

She leads them inside the building. The lobby is sparsely decorated, almost spartan in its minimalist, monochromatic decor. It’s what Junmyeon loved about it. The simplicity is such a refreshing contrast to the almost gaudy five star hotel lobbies that KMI owns by the dozen.

“What property?”

Junmyeon nods at the receptionist before they enter the lift specifically servicing the penthouse. “This gorgeous post renaissance villa with a forty hectare vineyard.”

“You meant a forty hectare vineyard _with_ a post renaissance villa. I think you could probably tear down the structure and the price tag on that property would barely change.”

 

“I’m not exactly sure. I do love the villa and I think you’d adore it.”

Baekhyun produces a lifeless little chuckle. “Thank you, Myeon.”

“Baekhyun are you okay?”

Baekhyun nods, “Just a little bit tired.”

The lift finally ascends to the topmost floor and it opens directly to a brightly lit hallway that led into a pair of heavy wooden doors. Junmyeon pushes the unlocked doors open and says, “Welcome home.

Home is a sparsely decorated space dotted with furniture in tones of brown and beige. A part of the wall doubles as a floor to ceiling window that displays a wonderful city skyline.

There are two large wooden bookshelves filled with leather bound volumes pressed against the wall. The only decoration is a Warhol  between the shelves and a portrait of Junmyeon and Jongin, at the latter’s graduation. There are more books littering the cherry oak floors, and there seems to be no other entertainment appliance in the sitting room except for a shiny Steinway which proudly stands on its own platform.

Bisecting the sitting room and the kitchen is a marble breakfast counter. Contrary to the sparseness of the sitting room, the kitchen seemed aptly stocked.

“For a billionaire your place is unbelievably modest.” Baekhyun tells her.

 

“I like to have a wide floor space. The bedroom all have their baths, and television and other gadgets of sort are piled in that room over there.” Junmyeon points to the western part of the apartment. “And your bedroom is whichever of these two. They’re practically the same anyway.”

Baekhyun stares at the portrait of the siblings and smiles. Throughout Junmyeon’s relatively short life, there’s nothing she ever cherished more than her younger brother. For a while, it seemed like her entire being had revolved around him, and in a good way.

“Jongin finished law school? That was fast.”

Junmyeon nods, “He’s taking a one year break and then he’s probably going to Wharton for postgrad studies.”

“Business?”

“Probably. I think he’s not fully over Soojung yet so he’s trying to be everywhere all at once. The last I heard, he’s hitchhiking in Peru.”

“Is that even safe?”

“I’m sure he’s still relatively okay. He sends a lot of postcards via express mail. I keep telling him to just email me every other day but it’s been two weeks since the last one. Though a postcard from Argentina arrived yesterday so I reckon he’s probably still alive.” Junmyeon chuckles, “He needs a break. In the next few years he’s gonna have to take the reins for KMI whether he likes it or not.”

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun sighs, turns to Junmyeon and gathers her in an embrace. Junmyeon wraps both arms around her best friend and dutifully ignores the signs of a meltdown that’s about to happen. Instead, she merely holds Baekhyun and tries to be there as he steadily assesses whatever crisis he is not ready to share with her.

“Thank you for always saving my ass since I was nine. Thank you Myeon.”

“No problem. The Aston is there when you want to drive around. But I’ll borrow one of the drivers from the estate to show you around town, first. Now take a bath and sleep off your jet lag, we’ll talk about work tomorrow.”

The smile Baekhyun giver her is unrecognizable.

~*~

If she is being honest with herself, Junmyeon would say that she’s mostly surprised when he sees Yifan, who’s dressed in a fitted navy blue button-down tucked into a pair of plain black slacks, in a press conference for the launch of KMI’s hospice project.

Going against her publicity team, she opted out of the usual benefit galas as to appeal better to international partners. Junmyeon wants to convey the sole purpose of the project for what it is - humanitarian aid. Surprisingly, her father who’s been stagnant since the last time they talked, does not say anything at all. She was expecting scathing remarks about the audacity of her projects and that her ancestors and grandfather who built their business empire from scratch, would roll in their graves for Junmyeon’s ridiculous _hypocrisies_. The only philanthropy they supported was Junmyeon’s mother’s benefit assemblies. Unfortunately for them, Junmyeon does not believe in the _benefit_ part at all.

After their conversation two weeks ago, the directors from Sun Medical Center, the premier hospital Yifan works at, immediately wanted to convene with her. They were interested on partnering with KMI despite the fact that Junmyeon had made it impossibly clear that they would gain almost nothing from said partnership. The directors merely nodded, eyes glistening with poorly concealed ulterior motives. Junmyeon shrugged and placed them in a shortlist of partners for the project. If they perform well enough, maybe Junmyeon will reconsider other prospects that would bring in profit.

In the present Junmyeon answers pertinent questions from press representatives from all around the globe. Camera flashes erupt every second that Junmyeon thinks she’s going to go blind any minute.

For the presscon, Junmyeon chose to hold it in the wide shaded yard of Green Meadows. The event had been simple and straightforward.

“CEO Kim, organizations from the international charity scene, see this project as a poorly concealed business venture. What do you say to this?”

“As far as I’m concerned, this project is my personal mission and this is the main reason why I am looking for organizations that would help me further my cause. This isn’t the conglomerate, this is simply Kim Junmyeon.”

 

“Can you please provide more details on this personal project?”

Junmyeon does not understand why these reporters never seem to read the painstakingly arranged dossiers for the sole reason that they’d avoid asking such obvious questions.

Junmyeon smiles, trying to mask her annoyance. “For the last few years, I’ve been involved with organizations from my college in the Department of Economics at Trinity, Cambridge. A lot of us joined to help provide humanitarian aid across the globe. A few months after I graduated, I got myself involved with WHO and UNICEF for various medical outreaches in South Africa. My passion stemmed from there and now that I am busy with KMI, I still want to continue what I’ve started. This project is a little different, since my team and I want to build branched hospices that would double as shelters for people in need, here but mainly throughout Southeast Asia - Philippines, Cambodia, Myanmar to name a few.”

“What about Kim Mixed Industries’ new health care sector? Is it true that KMI is funding Doctor Yifan Wu and Sun Medical Center for specialized cancer research?”

Junmyeon smiles, “Yes. As the next CEO and Chairman of KMI, we’ve decided to focus our interests in the health industry. I cannot say much about our partners’ works but yes, we’ve recently signed with Sun Medical Center and Doctor Wu. We will let everyone know of our plight three months from now after we hold our launch gala at the _Embassy._

A reporter in a pale pink coat shot and arm up and Junmyeon instantly regretted choosing to listen to her question.

 

“What is your association to Doctor Yifan Wu? Is it true that the two of you were romantically associated before you left for Cambridge?”

Junmyeon tried not to panic but at the same moment, Yifan chose to step into the field as incognito as a pink flamingo in a flock of birds . She sips from her water bottle, throat suddenly dried up.

“Doctor Wu was a _friend._ ” Junmyeon stares straight ahead, meeting Yifan’s neutral gaze. “We actually met here in _Green Meadows_ , and he inspired me to set on this course.”

A unified murmur falls upon the crowd. Someone must have already pointed out Yifan standing from behind the throng of people. Junmyeon hopes she hadn’t said anything remotely clarifying her _romantic association_ to the talented neurosurgeon.

_Oh, only if they knew just how fucking in love I was, I still am, with him. He’d practically changed my whole life._

Thankfully her answer seemed to placate the crowd as they typed whatever came out of her mouth into their laptops. A few more questions were answered and then the press conference comes to an end. After gorging on food and pastries prepared by the Kim family’s legendary kitchen staff lifted straight from their headquarters in the family’s Manor in Italy (where Lee Miran, Junmyeon’s mother, chose to remain for the rest of the year) the press people finally left _Green Meadows._

Junmyeon wearily sat by the reception area, accompanied by ever cheerful Head nurse Zhang Yixing.

 

“We’re all grateful for everything you’ve done for us, not just for our patients but for everyone of the staff here.” The nurse says. “I still remember your reaction after sitting in the ward. It didn’t even seem that long ago but you’ve already helped us countless of times in a span of four years.”

Junmyeon smiles. Her headache dissipates, just a little.

“I’m glad that my existence seems to finally have a purpose.”

“Don’t say that. Even without your monetary donations you still make a lot of us happy here.”

With wide eyes, Junmyeon turns towards the nurse, “You knew?”

Yixing smiles. Junmyeon still wants to poke his dimple. “I’m head nurse now. I’m allowed to sit during important board meetings. Also, I’m aware that you’ve never stopped funneling financial aid after you left to study abroad.”

“For how long did you know?”

“Well at first, I didn’t know that you were one of two inheritors to KMI, but I kinda read an article about you. It was quite funny because you wore such an elegant dress and a shiny, diamond necklace and I’m not used to seeing you in those kinds of clothing, but I would never miss your red hair anywhere. And since 2015, there’s always a big monetary donation transferred from the UK. I put two and two.”

Junmyeon grows confused by the second. She never knew of this article’s existence. “What year was it - the article?”

 

“2014?”

“Oh god.”

Red hair, elegant clothes. Lord, it had been one of the numerous benefit galas held by her mother which Junmyeon was forced to attend.

“Did Yifan know who I was, before I came back?”

“Yes. He read that same article right before meeting you and then I believe that had been the last time you ever came back before recently.”

Yixing’s smile is oblivious. Junmyeon feels like she is going into cardiac arrest anytime soon.

She goes back to that day in the music hall. She remembers what Yifan had told her.

_Whatever it is, it’s okay. I understand._

He’d held her so sweetly. He’d been so in love with her and he was willing to wait until Junmyeon was ready to come clean, he never confronted her even if he knew and he never assumed that Junmyeon had anything to do with KMI’s involvement with Green Meadows at that time.

He was waiting for her to tell him the truth he already knew.

Oh god.

Junmyeon is panicking. She clearly remembers what it’s like, sitting in front of her therapist and recalling every detail about her life that she loathed so much. It felt like every blood vessel in her entire system constricted and she couldn’t breathe.

 

_Oh god._

_Oh god._

_Oh god._

Yifan knew and Junmyeon lied to him. She left him to protect herself. Because she wasn’t ready to deal with the pain that she _imagined_ was going to happen. It was all her fucking fault.

Junmyeon stands on unstable legs and when she stares straight ahead, her vision sees doubles. Feeling asphyxiated, Junmyeon turns towards the worried nurse and says, “Yixing, I think I-I’m -”

Junmyeon doesn’t feel the floor against her back when she passes out.

~*~

 

Hospitals are so cliche. White walls, the thick scent of antiseptic and the harrowing silence.

When Junmyeon comes about, she feels perfectly fine. Her therapist told her that it’s quite uncommon, the whole fainting phenomena, but it’s become her body’s defense mechanism against various aggressive mental stimuli. Case in point, Junmyeon had a panic attack, something that she hasn’t experienced since the last few years. 

 

Now that she can assess things clearer, all Junmyeon wants to do is drink a few bottles of whiskey then promptly pass out for three weeks.

If only she could turn back time, if she had the guts to come clean and not wait for so long before finally wanting to tell Yifan the truth. Maybe she could have salvaged the situation.

She could have been happy if she didn’t botch her chances so badly.

The door to her room opens and she says, “I’m fine.” without looking up to see who it might be.

“I thought I could entertain you with pineapple tarts.”

Upon hearing the voice, Junmyeon finally lifts her head and she sees Yifan who’s decked in navy blue scrubs under doctor’s white.

“Yifan?”

The surgeon looks at her. There’s a familiar smile on the man’s face, a smile that Junmyeon can exchange millions for.

Yifan mechanically checks her blood pressure and asks, “Alright?”

Junmyeon nods. “Perfect.”

“Pineapple tarts?” He hands her the box of pastries he’d been holding. “A friend came back from Singapore. She swears they’re the best.”

 

Junmyeon smiles. He still remembers her obsession with everything pineapples.

They remain quiet. Junmyeon stews in her thoughts and she cannot stop wondering if it had been a sign that their paths always seemed to cross but they’d always lose each other in the process. Yifan walks to the other side of the room where he stands in front of the window, his back turned to Junmyeon. “I overheard your conversation with Yixing.”

Junmyeon screws her eyes shut, inhaling. “I was going to tell you.”

Yifan remains staring out the window.

“I came back hoping to redeem myself. But there’s really nothing left to say.” Junmyeon steels herself. She does not want to cry.

Yifan doesn’t say anything. He crosses the room again and sits beside her hospital bed. He stays mute for an indefinite amount of time. The silence is almost unbearable.

“I loved you.” He begins to say. “I never faked what I felt and I thought you saw that, I thought you knew how willing I was to give you everything I had. It was surprising to know that you had everything. But it didn’t matter, I fooled myself. I believed that maybe you saw something in me that you needed and that I could give that to you. I learned the truth about you but I didn’t care, you have the right to keep some things about yourself private and if you didn’t want me knowing, I was fine with that. For a moment, I just really thought I _knew_ you enough. That you were more than your money.” He looks away, scoffing, “But you left Junmyeon. And then I realized that I only _fooled_ myself. I never knew you, not at all.”

 

Junmyeon’s heart is already broken beyond utter repair that she barely feels anything at all.

 _I loved you._ It’s a hard pill to swallow.

Here they are, years later, and it’s as if Junmyeon only came back just in time to finally lose Yifan.

She wants to tell him that it’s the only thing he didn’t know about her, the fucking money. Her wealth had been inconsequential until Green Meadows was involved. But Junmyeon cannot summon enough energy to explain her side of the story.

Yifan laughs, almost sardonically. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved you. It’s pathetic how long I waited. I deluded myself that you’d come back because maybe…maybe you loved me too. Crazy right? A penniless orphan hoping for someone like Kim Junmyeon to come back and love him in return. Jesus, I was fucking insane.”

His words are shredding her to pieces but Junmyeon needed to hear. She needed to hear this anguish.

“I believed you. I believed _us_ ; but the world slapped me with a sign that from the beginning we were never going to work. Because you are Kim Junmyeon, a gifted heiress with the world on the palm of your hand. And I’m just Wu Yifan, a speck of dust in your galaxy.”

Back then, this is what Junmyeon had been afraid of. Yifan’s anger, the Yifan that didn’t look at her as if she’d hung the moon for him, the Yifan that does _not_ love her. Junmyeon is taking it all in because after everything, she deserved it.

But she doesn’t want to give up. Junmyeon grabs the doctor by his forearm and evenly tells him. “You’re wrong. Everything that I am now, everything that changed about me. It’s because of you. Fuck, Yifan, I was spiraling into nothing before we met. I had so much fucking money and I didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know what to do with my _life_. You gave my existence a purpose and because of that, I loved you. I still love you.”

Yifan’s tone suddenly becomes softer, resigned, exhausted. “The first time you told me that, you left. It hurt Junmyeon, it hurt to the point that sometimes, when I stared at my reflection, I couldn’t recognize myself. I didn’t know what sort of man I’ve become after _you_. It’s easy to say that you held any sort of affection for me because as you’ve said, I gave your existence a purpose, but clearly, mine wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

“Yifan…”

“Give me something to hold on to, Junmyeon, because I’m beginning to think that our paths are parallel but they’re never meant to intersect.”

It’s been a long time coming.

Yifan stands up, sends her another ambivalent smile. “Take care of yourself.”

A sudden numbness falls upon Junmyeon’s being. She’s so, so, exhausted.

 

Junmyeon is not sure how long she sat there unmoving, until her phone rings. Junmyeon mechanically picks up the device from the bedside table.

“Who is this?”

 _“Miss Kim, this is Lim Sehyun, the receptionist at the_ Orchard _. I’m calling to inform that your guest Mr. Byun Baekhyun was rushed to the E.R at Sun Medical Center. Your housekeeper has found him submerged in the bathtub and claims to say that he wouldn’t wake up.”_

Junmyeon bolts up from the bed. “What?”

_“We have not received any other information, Miss Kim. We apologize.”_

“No it’s alright. Thank you for informing me.”

_This is too much for one day_

Junmyeon, harried, exits her hospital room and leads herself to the patient information counter where she asks a composed looking receptionist about Baekhyun.

The lady must have recognized her that she doesn’t ask further identification. “The patient is transferred to the ICU a few minutes ago. Doctor Song, will be here shortly.”

“Thank you.”

A familiar, petite looking doctor arrives. She’s clad in light blue scrubs, long dark hair pulled away from her face in a high ponytail, and her face is professionally devoid of makeup. Junmyeon cannot place where she'd seen her before.

 

“I am Song Qian.” the doctor introduces herself, “I’m Mr. Byun’s attending. I’ll take you to his room.”

“Oh, thank you.”

They reach Intensive Care Unit room 307 where Baekhyun is thankfully stabilized.

“We’ll transfer him to a regular private room later today.”

Junmyeon stares at Baekhyun's from, through the small transparent window. “What happened to him?”

The specialist hands her a half empty bottle of sleeping pills, “He was rushed here with this. He overdosed before taking a bath. It’s a blessing that the housekeeper found him immediately, he would have suffered major complications if it had taken any longer.”

Junmyeon stares at the half empty, transparent, orange bottle with disbelieving eyes. There wasn’t a meltdown waiting to happen, there was _this_. Junmyeon feels sick all over again.

She stutters, “Thank you.”

“He is waking up, I will let you talk.”

Baekhyun is pale, his lips chapped. He looks frail, so unlike the person Junmyeon had seen earlier this morning.

“What the actual fuck happened?” is the first thing that comes out of Baekhyun’s mouth. Junmyeon hands him the pill bottle and sighs. “I should be the one asking you that.”

 

Baekhyun stares at the pill bottle and chuckles, “I just wanted to sleep in your huge bathtub.”

"Baekhyun -"

“I know, I’m sorry Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon sits on the hospital bed and tries to compose herself. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Baekhyun does not talk. Junmyeon feels hatred radiating off the man in waves until, “I tried to forget.” e begins, rising from his reclined position. His voice shakes, trying to contain himself but he's already bursting from the seams. “I tried but I still feel his hands crawling all over my skin. I can’t sleep. _He, Junmyeon, he --”_

“Your boss?” Junmyeon starts with gritted teeth. Baekhyun nods, refusing to meet her gaze.

The picture becomes so startlingly clear. This is the reason why Baekhyun left the firm, why he flew across the globe to escape. Junmyeon feels her blood boil.

“I’m sorry.” Baekhyun sobs, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He just...J-Junmyeon, I didn't meant to..I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

Junmyeon gathers her best friend in a placating embrace. “No, no, no. It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“Junmyeon, I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

“I’m here Baek, I’m here. I got you. Everything will be okay.”

 

What happens next is a complete fucking meltdown. Junmyeon lets him cry until the doctors rush in and sedates him. Junmyeon’s head aches but when she steps out of her best friend's room, she picks up her phone and calls her secretary.

“Miss Lee, send me all information we have on Baekhyun’s last firm. I want details on his old boss.” Junmyeon instructs as soon as the call connects.

“Alright boss. Anything else?”

“Contact my lawyers and representatives in London.”

This animal should have known better before laying a hand on Baekhyun. Junmyeon is going to rain hell upon him until kingdom come.

 

~*~

 

“I feel very, very foolish.” Baekhyun is already chuckling as soon as he wakes up. “Please tell me you don’t have my embarrassing crying fit on video.”

“You’ll never know.” Junmyeon plays along. “Now we both have each other’s crying fits on record!”

Baekhyun groans. “My reputation Junmyeon, my reputation!”

“Oh shut up.”

Baekhyun’s mood suddenly becomes all too somber. “I didn’t want to kill myself, I just wanted to sleep. I’m very exhausted.”

 

Junmyeon approaches her best friend and stares at him. “Listen to me Baekhyun, we will destroy the monster that did this to you and we’ll get you the best help money can buy. You'll be okay, promise me that you'll be okay.”

Baekhyun tries to smile. “You keep forgetting that I'm a strong bitch, _sis._ ”

Junmyeon chuckles, despite the situation. "You got me. We'll get through this together."

“I owe you a lot.” Baekhyun tells her.

“You’re family. You don’t owe me anything…say before anything what about a vacation. Does a secluded beach in Indonesia sound any good?”

“Yeah. I think it’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took very long sorry!


End file.
